


Bittersweet and Strange

by speakpirate



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Palison, Post-Series, Rare Pair, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-05-23 04:15:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14926973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakpirate/pseuds/speakpirate
Summary: Emily Fields doesn’t need either of them.But Rosewood is still Rosewood.Their students just might need them both.A story where Paige and Alison discover they have more important things in common than a mutual ex.





	1. The End is Just the Start

**Author's Note:**

> _Happy Pride Month! My goal for June is to take a lot of the partially complete stories that have been hanging around in my docs for ages and finish them. Because done is better than perfect and the world needs more femslash. Unlike the other pieces I've posted this month, this is a longer fic that I'm going to be adding chapters to daily until it's complete._
> 
> _Also, huge thanks to lco123 for literally years worth of encouragement and support for this particular fic._
> 
> \---------------------

Paige gets the job as the swimming coach for Rosewood High. She throws herself into work, teaching three Phys Ed classes, developing new training protocols for the swimmers, and serving as a faculty adviser for the burgeoning Queer Youth group in her spare time.

She doesn’t really have time to date, which is fine. 

If she’s too busy for a relationship, she’s too busy to dwell on Emily Fields. 

She watches as the story unfolds on the local news. Emily’s life is still sirens and police tape and stalkers who come back from the dead. A small part of Paige wants to call Emily, ask her to get coffee, make sure she’s okay. But another part, a surprisingly strong willed one, is glad she dodged the bullet of getting involved with all that drama again.

She puts her phone away, makes herself a cup of tea. 

Works on a letter of recommendation for one of her students until the urge to dial Emily’s number passes. 

Life goes on. 

Kids who were freshmen when she started are being recruited by college scouts, weighing offers from multiple schools after graduation. She watches them walk across the stage in their caps and gowns and feels an unexpected pang of envy. They have their whole lives ahead of them, a wide vista of limitless possibility. Her own life seems to have contracted to the same town, the same school, that she started from. 

She doubles down. Increases the intensity of her focus. The summer passes in a blur of conditioning practices. She ups the number of hours in the pool, also the hours of weight training and running the track. Her dad nods approvingly when she describes the regimen over dinner. 

The swim team is becoming a machine, an unbeatable force in the water and out of it. They destroy the competition at every pre-season invitational. They’re the odds on favorites for the State Championships before the first buzzer of the fall sounds.

There’s a start of school pep rally for all the sports teams. It’s a Rosewood tradition. Cheerleaders and field hockey players and beefy football guys and her swimmers all getting their moment in the spotlight. Standard stuff.

Until it’s over, and Alison DiLaurentis intercepts her in the hallway. 

They haven’t spoken a single word to each other since Paige started working here. Each of them coolly pretending the other doesn’t exist during staff meetings, not making eye contact if they happen to cross paths in the teacher’s lounge. But now Alison is right in front of her, arms folded across her chest and one heel tapping impatiently on the floor.

Paige looks around for anyone else that Alison might be waiting for, but the corridor is mostly deserted. It’s Friday afternoon, five minutes after the last bell. One of the football coaches is at the other end of the hall, making a muscle and grinning at two girls on the soccer team.

Paige pushes her shoulders back, takes what she hopes is an imposing posture. She’s twenty-eight years old, and she has no intention of being intimidated by Alison DiLaurentis. 

It’s impossible, even now, to look at Alison without an instinctive tightness in her chest. She’s a terrible person. A bully. A tormenting mean girl. And Emily chose her. The thought of Emily is like a flare of pain from an old injury. She’s three thousand miles away and it’s still like she’s standing right between them. 

“What do you want?” Paige asks, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. 

“I need to speak with you about Beth,” Alison says, firmly.

Paige is taken aback, has to think for a second about who she means. “Satterfield?” She’s a sophomore. A hardworking benchwarmer, occasional back up for the 100m fly. “Elizabeth Satterfield?” 

“She has an eating disorder.”

“What?” Paige says, her stomach dropping as she remembers a time she caught the girl throwing up in the locker room last year. An hour before a JV meet. Nerves, she’d said. And Paige let it go. 

For once in her life, Alison isn’t lying.

\-------

Alison handles the whole thing, setting up a time for the two of them to meet with Beth (Paige makes a note to stop calling the swimmers by last name only) and Dr. Sullivan. She’s surprisingly sensitive and supportive, whereas Paige herself can only muster gruff platitudes about wanting to see her get better. Dr. Sullivan takes it from there, arranging to speak with the girl’s parents and recommending several treatment programs.

The rest of the team is still solid. Three of them are putting up times that would beat college swimmers. Records are going to fall. The Sharks are poised for their most dominant season in years, a lengthy streak of uninterrupted wins.

Paige looks at Satterfield’s empty place on the bench. It feels like a loss. 

\-------

Paige spends the next few weeks standing at the edge of the pool counting strokes, charting times. She’s not brooding, exactly. Even if she does hole up in her office after practice each night. She’s being productive, reading up, making adjustments to their training plans. 

They have a charity meet where they beat the boys team in every relay. Paige tries to smile when parents congratulate her, when faculty members she barely knows pat her on the back in the staff lounge. She feels it stretch the corners of her mouth, a lie.

A team doesn’t rise or fall on the shoulders of a back up swimmer. She knows this.

But she’s the coach. She should have known.

It’s a rainy Wednesday afternoon when one of her Captains knocks on the door and comes in. 

“Rhodes,” she nods, then corrects herself. “Jackie. What can I do for you?”

The girl shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. 

“I spoke to Beth,” she says, finally. “And I think - it would mean a lot to her if you would visit.”

\------

There’s nothing like being shamed into better behavior by a high school junior. 

Or so she thinks, until she finds herself standing uncertainly outside the door of the classroom where Alison DiLaurentis is leading a lively class discussion on slut shaming in The Scarlet Letter. 

The bell rings and she watches students streaming out the door. Talking and laughing and checking their phones. A couple of kids from the Queer Youth group say hi to her and she gives them a tight smile in response. The hallway is full of noise and movement, but she finds herself rooted in place, stuck in the past. Remembering how Alison used to strut past these same lockers with Emily and the others half a step behind, pushing people out of the way, tossing off cutting insults as casually as she flipped her hair.

She hesitates for so long that she can hear Alison packing up her things, getting ready to leave for the day. She’s being ridiculous, she tells herself sternly. 

Paige knocks on the door frame as she enters.

“Hey,” she says. Her stomach is churning at the thought of having to ask Alison DiLaurentis for anything. Her knee feels like it might buckle, which is hasn’t done in years. She forces herself to look directly at Alison.

“Hello,” Alison says, in a measured voice. “What can I do for you?”

They’re both adults, Paige tells herself. This is the now. It’s more important than the past. Emily Fields doesn’t need either of them. Beth Satterfield might just need them both.

“I was thinking,” Paige replies. “Of maybe visiting the Pinebrook Clinic this weekend. And - it’s a long drive - and you were good at knowing what to say to her. I thought maybe we could go up together?”

“I’ve been to see her,” Alison says, pointedly. “Twice.”

Paige closes her eyes and swallows hard. “Of course. Nevermind.”

“I was planning to go this weekend, anyway,” Alison sighs, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Pick me up at nine?” 

\-----------------

Paige pulls up in front of the DiLaurentis house at 8:55am. She hasn’t been on Bridgewater Terrace in a few years. The Hastings have new privacy hedges. Alison’s house has been painted a sunny yellow, which makes it look a lot less ominous. There’s a tire swing tied to the tree in the front yard, and a small tricycle on the porch.

Alison doesn’t keep her waiting long. She’s wearing a floaty blue dress with a white cardigan as she saunters down the steps. Paige looks down at her jeans and button down black shirt, feeling underdressed.

She slides into the passenger seat and hands Paige a travel mug of coffee and a muffin.

“Don’t worry,” Alison deadpans. “I didn’t poison them.”

Paige takes a sip of the coffee. It’s delicious. 

\-------

They’re an hour outside of town and the drive has been pretty quiet. Paige has the radio tuned to an Oldies station, and Alison has been grading quizzes on Hawthorne. Paige is drumming her fingers against the steering wheel nervously.

“She’ll be glad you’re there,” Alison says, not looking up. “Those swimmers think the sun rises and sets on you.”

“I failed her,” Paige says quietly. “I had no idea.”

Alison slides her papers back into her bag. “Because she hid it from you. She didn’t want you to know.”

It’s a lie. It wasn’t a huge unknowable secret. Alison figured it out. Because she’s Alison. She knows everything without being told. She can read body language, facial expressions, minds.

“How did you find out?” 

“She submitted a poem to the literary mag,” Alison answers. “There were a few lines that...set off alarm bells. I started watching her more carefully.”

Paige drives for a few miles, contemplating this latest version of Alison DiLaurentis. She might still be a bitch on wheels underneath, but she’s a damn good teacher.

\--------

The scene at the treatment facility is rough. It looks nice enough from the outside, but it still smells like a hospital the moment they’re in the door. Paige wrinkles her nose at the scent, a combination of bleach and old pudding. Everything from the furniture to the walls to the staff feels institutional. Impersonal.

They sit in the visitor’s lounge and Alison makes small talk about the literary magazine, an article they both read in the latest issue of Teen Vogue. Beth seems shyly pleased to see them. Alison brought her a small stack of paperbacks to read. Paige catches sight of Diana Nyad’s autobiography underneath a worn copy of Tiny Beautiful Things. 

After about thirty minutes, Alison gets up to use the restroom. She gives Paige a significant look on her way out. A pointed arch of her eyebrows that clearly conveys the message: say something.

Paige clears her throat. “I’m sorry.”

“No, please,” Beth says, holding up her hand. “I’m sorry. I never meant to let you down.”

“You didn’t,” Paige tells her. “But being part of a team - it means you’re stronger together. You should have been able to come to me for help.”

“The swim team was the only place I ever fit in,” Beth says quietly. “Like, when I was in the water, everything made sense.”

“It’ll make sense again,” Paige tells her. “I promise.”

\-------------

 

“It’s not easy,” Alison says, as they get back on the highway. “But you get used to it.”

Paige nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“Pinebrook isn’t that bad,” Alison assures her. “Compared to lots of other treatment centers. She’s doing better.”

Paige feels the back of her neck go cold. She’d prefer to never have enough familiarity for casual comparison. Her hands clench around the steering wheel. 

“It’s not your fault, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Alison adds.

“But all the training, the conditioning. Maybe she shouldn’t have been on Varsity, maybe it was too much pressure.”

Alison shakes her head. “She’s had body image issues for years. Her parents aren’t exactly attentive.”

“Typical Rosewood family,” Paige mutters.

“Her new step-mother is Bridget Wu.”

“Seriously?”

“They met during Daddy’s latest stint in rehab and they haven’t made it out to see her at all since they signed her in. She’s going to need someone to watch her pretty closely for awhile, once she’s released. Is she friends with anyone on the team?”

“One of the Captains, I think. Rhodes. She lives with her mom.”

“Good,” Alison says. “Make the call.”

Her voice has the same authority that it did when she was Queen B, but none of the malice.

Paige is a little disturbed. 

At some point during the past few years, Alison DiLaurentis might just have turned into a more difficult person to hate.

\-------------

Paige makes the call. She makes several calls. She works with Beth and Dr. Sullivan and Jackie Rhodes and her mother until it’s all arranged. Mr. Satterfield and Bridget Wu are out of the country and unconcerned. Bridget’s voice is slurry when she promises to cancel the driver they were going to send.

She’s meeting with Dr. Sullivan to discuss a plan to reintegrate Beth into athletics when she mentions her own feelings of failure, her worries about how she could have overlooked the warning signs.

“Sometimes we can be so focused on our goals, we lose sight of the larger picture,” Dr. Sullivan suggests mildly. 

“No one ever says that to male coaches,” Paige argues.

Dr. Sullivan smiles. “I’m not saying it to you as a coach. I’m suggesting it to you as a person. Just think about opening yourself up a little. You might be surprised at how it changes the view.”

Paige does think about it. She thinks about it while she’s eating a sandwich from the vending machine and watching tapes of the competition. She thinks about it while she swims laps in the morning. She thinks about it as she leads the swimmers on a conditioning run through the empty school hallways after hours. 

They sprint down the corridor past Alison’s classroom. She looks up from whatever she’s working on and nods.

Paige slows down just enough to nod back.

\--------------------

Beth returns to school and rejoins the team in late October. Her first time back in the pool is a Friday afternoon practice, which tend to be a little more relaxed and informal before the season starts in earnest.

They spend the first ninety minutes on flip turn drills, as Paige and Coach Kendall study each swimmer’s footwork against the wall. It’s repetitive enough that the handful of bystanders scattered across the stands are all engrossed in checking their phones, doing their homework as they wait for their friends. Halfway up the bleachers, Paige catches sight of Alison, chatting with Cathryn Rhodes. 

She blows her whistle to get everyone out of the pool, then has her two captains divide the swimmers into teams for a pick up relay. Bristow, a long limbed backstroker, finishes splitting everyone up into squads of four and assigning lanes before looking to Paige for guidance. 

“We’re one short,” she announces. “Gauthier had to make up her chem test from last week.”

Paige looks at the team that’s left one woman short. It’s Bristow, a distance swimmer named Cosgrove, and Beth Satterfield.

“I’ll jump in,” Paige offers, stripping down to her suit. It’s a navy one piece with red and white piping, a holdover from her days of trying out for the national team. There are whoops and cheers as the team realizes she’s going to race with them.

She grins in spite of herself. It’s kind of nice to feel like she still has some cache around here. Say what you will about Rosewood, but an almost Olympian is always going to be a big fish in a small pool. 

“Alright,” she says, waving them all to their places. "Work on your dive ins, you need to be in the air when that hand touches the wall!”

The first leg of the relay is tight, but Beth’s time out of the water seems to given her new intensity to her strokes, and she’s maybe four tenths of a second in front of the pack when she touches the wall and Bristow goes in. She widens their lead down the stretch, and they’re a solid two seconds ahead when Cosgrove starts the breaststroke. She’s a little slower down the line and two other teams are in the water on the final leg before Paige. Her front crawl isn’t quite as fast as it used to be, but by the time she hits the turn at the halfway point, she’s passed both of the previous leaders, but Rhodes - whose team was well behind on every other leg - is about to pull even with her. Paige swims the last stretch flat out, top speed, adrenaline and exhilaration coursing through her even as she sees Rhodes pulling ahead, slapping the wall almost a full body length in front of her. Clocking what would be at least a pool record if she hit it during an official meet. But she’s shaking her head as she gets out of the pool, and Kendall is making an X sign with her arms.

“I went in before Lewis touched the wall,” Rhodes says, shaking her head. “Timed it wrong.”

“Winners!” Bristow shouts, and starts high fiving Beth and Cosgrove.

Everyone is in high spirits as they head into the locker room, laughing and joking, talking about the time that Rhodes clocked and their plans for the weekend.

Paige is toweling off and watching as the small knot of onlookers start packing up. Rob Mitchell, the new assistant football coach, is staring at the sophomores - who Bristow has straightening the lane lines and stowing all the team’s gear - in a hungry way that makes the hair on the back of Paige’s neck stand up. 

“Ugh,” Alison’s voice cuts through her worry. “Does Rosewood turn all the men into creeps, or are the creeps just naturally drawn to Rosewood?” She’s glares in Mitchell’s direction so pointedly that his face flushes and he starts moving quickly towards the exit.

“Maybe it’s something in the water,” Paige deadpans, keeping an eye on Mitchell’s retreating back.

“Something other than an elite team of swimmers?” Alison asks. “You guys looked good out there.”

Paige shrugs. “It was nice of you to come.”

“Are you sulking because you didn’t swim faster than a sixteen year old who’s probably headed for a Wheaties box?”

Paige shakes her head. “No. I’m disgruntled because she lost on purpose.”

“She put up an incredible time.”

“She’s a veteran. She doesn’t make careless mistakes on her dive ins. I think maybe she didn’t want to beat me.”

“Oh, she wanted to beat you,” Alison assures her. “And she did. But she also wanted Beth to have the win.”

“Doesn’t matter. You can’t make it to the highest level of this sport if you don’t care about competition.”

“There’s a difference between not caring about competition and recognizing when someone needs something more than you do.”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“I understand,” Alison shoots back, a hint of antagonism in her voice. “Like you’ve never known any first rate swimmers who don’t live or die on the endgame? Who don’t even care who else is in the pool because they’re not swimming against anyone but themselves?”

Her words land like a punch. A punch that knocks Paige back to her junior year, to Emily’ s wet hair and shy smile and the feel of her hand on Paige’s wrist, wet and electric as she pulled her back into the pool to race for fun.

“Em!” The syllable bounces off the walls of the pool area, startling Paige back into the present. The present, where Alison is looking around, a little wild eyed, before her gaze settles on Emma Gauthier waving back at Lewis, flashing a thumbs up as she sets her chemistry book down and goes over to help rehang a life preserver that someone knocked off the wall.

Paige watches Alison’s face settle back into an impassive mask, as if nothing has happened, they’re just two people having a normal conversation. As if she hasn’t just accidentally exposed a raw nerve, pushed hard against the old bruise. As if she hasn’t just shown Paige how it looks to still be waiting for Emily Fields to walk back into a room, into your life at any moment. 

“Well,” Paige says, sharply. “Maybe you knew her better than I did.” She barely recognizes her own voice, it’s so coated in bitterness.

“Not that it matters,” Alison shoots back, icily. 

She flounces past Paige with a dismissive look. 

“She didn’t love either of us enough to stay.”


	2. The Forces of Your Past You've Fought Before

A cold rain is whipping across the parking lot as Paige darts out of the building to chase down Vice Principal Hackett.

“Excuse me, Sir” she says, catching up with him. “I was wondering if you had a chance to follow up on our conversation about Coach Mitchell.”

“I’ve told you before, Miss McCullers, you need to take your concerns to Coach Wilson,” he replies, pulling his collar up and making no move to offer her space under his umbrella. “He’s the Athletic Director, this is entirely under his purview.”

“I did that,” Paige tells him, holding her messenger bag over her head to shield herself from the downpour. “Weeks ago. He said he’d speak to him. But I saw one of the cheerleaders leaving his office last night. They were in there with the door closed. After 9pm.”

“If the door was closed, you didn’t actually see anything inappropriate occur,” he responds, testily. “Coach Mitchell is a good solid family man. He has every right to meet with students in his office.” 

“But-”

“Gender equality, Miss McCullers -- we’d hardly think it unusual for a male student to be meeting with him, whether the door were open or closed.”

“If it were a male student who isn’t on the football team, leaving with tousled hair and buttoning his shirt, we would.”

“Fine,” he says, in an exasperated voice. “I’ll speak with Coach Wilson. But in the meantime, I strongly suggest you focus on your own team rather than trying to sabotage the first winning season our football players have had in a decade by undermining their coaching staff.”

“Coaches and teachers are mandatory reporters, if we suspect -”

“There is nothing to report but baseless suspicions,” he says, coldly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m soaked to the skin. Goodnight, Miss McCullers.”

She’s stomping off toward her Jeep when she she’s startled by a sudden clanging noise. She hesitates. Her car is two spots away.

The strange noise you don’t investigate today could be the thing that comes after you tomorrow. 

But the weird sound you don’t run from could be the thing that attacks you today. 

There’s another metallic clang, accompanied by what sounds like a woman’s voice. She can’t make out the words, but the tone is panicky. Loud enough to carry over the wind and rain. 

Paige runs towards the noise.

She finds Roy Jenkins, a burly guy who teaches Spanish 101, loitering near a late model Subaru with a flat tire.

“Why so jumpy, little lady? Just thought you could use some extra muscle.”

The little lady in question turns out to be Alison.

Alison, who Paige has been avoiding. For the past week. For years. For basically most of her life.

Alison, who’s currently scrabbling with a small jack on the wet pavement, pale and glassy eyed. There’s a tire iron clenched in her right hand as she stares at Jenkins from a defensive crouch. 

The parking lot lights are casting his shadow across the puddles of water on the ground. 

The hood of his jacket is up.

Paige’s stomach goes cold with understanding.

The jack slips, and the car lurches. Probably because of him leaning against it.

Paige puts a hand on his shoulder, steering him casually away from Alison’s car. 

“We got this, Roy,” Paige tells him firmly. “Thanks anyway.”

“I was trying to help,” he grumbles, putting both of his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “You wanna drown out here trying to wrestle the spare on, be my guest.”

Paige feels herself let out a breath as he saunters away. She kneels down next to Alison, who hasn’t moved. She’s drenched and shaking.

“Hey,” Paige says quietly, gently taking the tire iron out of her hands. “It’s okay.”

She takes off her gloves and helps reposition the jack beneath the axle. 

Alison is still staring off into a middle distance over Paige’s shoulder.

“You know what?” Paige says, in her calmest voice. “We should call Triple A. Let them take care of this.” She gets her phone out and calls for roadside assistance, giving them the details of Alison’s vehicle and license plate number.

“Come on,” she says to Alison. “We can wait in my car.”

Alison blinks, as if she doesn’t even recognize her. 

Paige puts a tentative hand on her elbow. “It’s okay,” she repeats. “It’s just a flat tire.”

“The tire,” Alison says, finally. “I need to pick up Grace from daycare.”

Right. The daughter. Paige saw them in the supermarket once. The little girl is Emily in miniature. Same eyes, same hair, same stillness. It was so unsettling, she’d put her half full basket on the ground next to a display of taco shells and left the store.

Paige is about to ask if there’s someone she can call. 

“Get the car seat,” Paige suggests, surprising herself. “I’ll drive you.”

Alison looks stares at her in disbelief, but obediently grabs the car seat and follows her.

She helps Paige buckle it into her back seat, and then gets in the passenger side. 

“Where are we going?” Paige asks.

“Radley,” Alison says as Paige grabs a blanket from the back seat and offers it to her, turns the heat on full blast.

She pulls out of the parking lot and turns down the darkened road towards The Radley. It’s still a little hard to think of it as a hotel, a place where fancy people meet for brunch.

“Do you just leave her in a hotel room all day?” Paige asks, trying to lighten the mood. “And let her watch as much Sesame Street as she wants?”

“Ashley Marin works there,” Alison explains. “They have on-site child care for guests and employees. Grace is Hanna’s god daughter, so she says that makes her family. Or close enough. She’s been really generous.”

Alison lets out a shaky breath and presses her fingers against the bridge of her nose. 

She seems to be getting herself back under control. It’s a weird feeling to think of Alison as vulnerable. Paige tries to push away memories of Emily going pale and quiet, refusing to talk about it. Pretending that PTSD could be shut down by force of will.

“I’m sorry,” Alison says, finally. “I was having a bad moment.” She doesn’t elaborate, but she’s clutching the door handle so hard that her knuckles are white.

Paige shrugs. “This isn’t my first time.” Emily’s name hangs heavy in the air, unspoken.

“I guess not,” Alison says, quietly. 

“I could barely go outside,” Paige admits. “After Lyndon James, it took me a long time to feel safe again. And that was nothing compared to what the rest of you went through.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not valid,” Alison replies. 

They’re pulling into the parking lot of The Radley. Alison pulls a scarf out of her purse and ties it over her hair, checks her makeup in the mirror.

“You look fine,” Paige assures her. And she does, she looks untouchable again, like she’s slipped a mask right back in place. It’s unnerving.

“I’ll be just a minute,” Alison says. She takes a few steps away from the car before turning back. 

“Thank you.”

\--------------

Paige drives Alison and Grace back to the school. It’s a little surreal seeing a three year old version of Emily happily kicking her legs in the backseat and talking about her day. 

“We blew bubbles. _Inside._ ”

Alison turns around in her seat to listen. 

\----------------

She follows Alison’s newly repaired vehicle to the DiLaurentis house to make sure she gets home okay.

She’s getting ready to honk and drive away when Alison gets out of her car and waves her into the driveway.

“Stay for dinner,” she offers. “It’s the least I can do.”

\-------

Although it was Alison who invited her, it’s Grace who immediately takes over as Paige’s tour guide, grabbing her hand and dragging her off to see her room.

No matter who she looks like, Grace’s personality marks her as Alison’s daughter. She organizes all of her stuffed animals into a parade for Paige’s entertainment, then brings her favorite book over for Paige to read to her. Once Paige has finished Robert the Rose Horse three times, Grace hauls out her crayons and decides they’ll color until dinner.

“Which one is your favorite?” Paige asks, crouching down to examine the crayon selection.

“This,” Grace says, grabbing the red one. “And this, that an oh - not that, and this and this,” as she grabs an orange and a green and a yellow and a blue.

“That’s a lot of favorites.”

Grace pulls out a purple crayon and, with a look of deep concentration on her face, holds all six of them together between her small palms.

She moves them back and forth over a blank piece of paper, then holds it up triumphantly.

It’s a rainbow. 

“That’s my favorite.”

Paige grins. “Actually, that’s my favorite, too.”

\-----------------------

Dinner turns out to be a vegetable lasagna and a delicious crusty garlic bread.

Alison is quiet, but she seems calmer. She asks Paige a few questions about her work with the Queer Youth group, the American History class she’s taken over while Mrs. Wolfe is on maternity leave. 

“It’s fine. Half of the kids are asking if they can cite _Hamilton_ as a primary source, and Riley Scott felt like there was too much ambiguity in my True/False questions on the last quiz. But I like it.”

“She practically threatened legal action when I gave her an A minus last month.”

Grace keeps up a running monologue about sharing animal crackers with Ashley. 

“I gave the lion to Max. She’s new. Now we’re friends.”

“That’s good,” Alison says, encouragingly. 

Paige isn’t sure if she imagines the glance that Alison shoots her way. 

“It’s nice to make new friends.”


	3. Alike in a Certain Way

Paige is on her way to the third floor teacher’s lounge when Riley Scott bursts out of the girl’s bathroom and barrels into her. Riley’s messenger bag skids across the floor, leaving a trail of textbooks and cosmetics scattered in its wake. 

“Sorry!” Riley exclaims, her voice oddly bright. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

Paige rubs her shoulder and kneels down to help. She picks up a heavy organic chemistry book, a bottle of aspirin, and five pages of a French translation. “You should be more careful.”

Something shoots across Riley’s face, for a second she looks almost afraid. 

“Are you okay?” Paige asks, concerned.

“Fine,” Riley replies, grabbing her things and hurriedly stuffing them back in her bag. 

Whatever it was, it’s gone. So fast Paige isn’t sure she didn’t imagine it.

“How many AP classes are you taking?” Four of five at least. Plus Model UN and drama club and student council and academic decathlon and the track team. Paige feels exhausted even thinking about it. 

“Not too many,” Riley says, not making eye contact as she scoops up a tube of lipstick. “I wanted to do World History, too, but not enough people signed up.”

“Maybe next year,” Paige says, handing her a few stray pens and a highlighter.

Riley shakes her head. “I want to do dual enrollment next year. I can take most of my classes at Hollis. But thanks.” She gestures vaguely around, as if to show that she wants express appreciation for the academic support and for helping to collect all her stuff. “I should get back to class.” 

She whips off down the stairs, leaving Paige feeling unsettled as she tries to refocus on her nearly-forgotten task at hand. 

She needs to find Ella Montgomery.

Who, as it happens, is in the teacher’s lounge eating a Greek salad at a table with Alison. 

“Kitten heels,” Alison is saying. “When in doubt, go with kitten heels.”

She hasn’t spoken to Alison since the night of the flat tire, although a tin of homemade cookies did materialize on her desk two days later. 

She spent the entire morning afterwards debating whether or not to stop by Alison’s classroom to check on her. Until she caught sight of Alison walking past the gym, perfectly composed and looking like she just stepped off a modeling runway. Or, more likely, out of a library. Based on the armload of books she was carrying. Paige had paused in the middle of shelving volleyballs and watched until she was out of sight.

Mrs. Montgomery gives her a friendly smile. 

“Paige,” she says. “What brings you all the way up here?”

“I need a favor,” Paige says, as Alison scoots her chair over and gestures for her to sit down.

“The Queer Youth Alliance is planning a trip to Philadelphia,” Paige continues. “To see _Fun Home_. The thing is, we have twenty kids who want to go, and apparently there’s a rule -”

“One faculty member per ten students,” Ella nods. 

“Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem. Brian Gilvin is our other adviser, but just realized his daughter has a ballet recital that night. And since you’re the adviser for the drama club, I thought maybe -”

“They challenged that book last year,” Alison cuts in. “Lydia Phillips was circulating a petition for the school library to remove it.”

Paige frowns. “I never heard about that.”

“Because we shut them down,” Ella tells her. “Alison brought in the big guns. A private lunch with Veronica Hastings and suddenly the school board found their backbone.”

Alison shrugs modestly. “I knew they wouldn’t want a public fight with the Lieutenant Governor’s office.”

“When is the play?” Ella asks.

“Saturday night.”

“I’ll do it,” Alison offers, before Ella has a chance to say yes or no. “I’ve been wanting to see it.”

“I already have plans for Saturday, anyway,” Ella adds, looking amused.

“And now so do I,” Alison concludes, smoothly. 

"Good," Paige says. "Problem solved."

If only the solution didn't leave her feeling strangely off balance.

 

\------------

The heat in the rattling school transportation van is on, but it’s the first week of November and the winter has decided to come early this year. A burst of frigid air blows in every time they drop off more students.

Alison is in the passenger seat, pulling her coat closed and adjusting her scarf. 

“You’re doing important work,” she says, when the last two girls have clambered out of the van and are hurrying inside. “Making a space where it’s okay for these kids to work out who they’re going to be? That’s huge.”

“Tell that to Hackett,” Paige says, pulling away from the curb. “We’re lucky the theater has cut rate tickets for students. Every year we have more kids and less funding.”

“They must not understand the difference it makes,” Alison says firmly. “This is the kind of thing that actually helps young people. Sometimes I see Diana Winthrop walking down the hall holding hands with Ava Peretti, and it feels like a whole new world has opened up for these kids.”

“I hope it has. I want it to be easier for them. I mean, my dad could barely look at me for three months.”

Alison is quiet, and Paige is suddenly aware of how alone they are. The night seems to get darker outside the van as she drives towards Alison’s house.

“I never told my father,” Alison says, finally. “He found out when Jason hid a nanny cam in my bedroom.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. He caught me.” Alison mimes making air quotes, “Practicing.”

“What did he do?”

Alison shrugs in a way that isn’t quite as nonchalant as she might have wanted it to seem. 

“Said a lot of awful things I tried to ignore. Promised to lock me up in Radley if I ever did it again. Then he packed me off to Georgia to stay with my grandma for the rest of the summer.” She sighs. “He kept threatening to tell Emily’s parents. I think the only reason he didn’t was because he didn’t want anyone else to know. He was too ashamed.”

Paige waits for the familiar jangle that always follows any casual mention of Emily’s name.

It doesn’t come.

Interesting.

“I never imagined,” she tells Alison. “When we were in high school - I just thought you were an evil bitch. A demon. Sent from the pits of Hell to torture me.”

Alison closes her eyes and leans her against the back of the seat for a moment. “I thought being an evil bitch was the only way I could survive. I hate thinking about it now.” 

She pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “For what I did to you. That stupid letter…”

“I should have known,” Paige says. “No straight girl could have made up lesbian sex fantasies _that_ good.”

“You should have known,” Alison admits. “That I saw the way you looked at Emily and I panicked. I had to neutralize the threat because - I wanted her for myself. I just couldn’t admit it.”

Paige sighs as she parks in front of the Hastings privacy hedge. “Listen, I’m not letting you off the hook for that. It was the worst thing anyone had ever done to me. It made me - it put me in a really dark place, and I stayed there for a long time.”

Alison looks stricken. “If I could take it back -”

“I’m not done,” Paige tells her. “I know you’re sorry. What you did - you manipulated me and you blackmailed me and you made me want to die. But I got through it. And when worse things happened - in the back of my mind, I always pictured you strutting over to that sign and snatching that letter, and I thought: _I survived Alison DiLaurentis_.”

She puts her hand over Alison’s. “Besides, I get it. When I was figuring things out - I did things I’m not proud of, too.” She remembers the feel of Emily struggling under water, how much she hoped she could drown the feelings that were getting harder and harder to ignore.

Alison interlaces their fingers and squeezes, briefly, before pulling away.

“You’re a good person,” Ali says, a little wistfully. “You’re being much kinder than I deserve.”

“Well,” Paige shrugs, “you were messing with my head. But you didn’t kidnap me and try to slit my throat at a bed and breakfast. That pretty much knocked you out of the top spot in my nightmares.”

“Do you still have them?” Alison asks, hesitantly. “Nightmares?”

“They’re mostly about the car accident these days. I’m driving around looking for something, and then there’s a lot of bright light and the sound of screeching metal.”

The dream is a horror filled mass of pain and loss and abandonment.

“Three days before my try out for the National Team,” Paige says, the words so sharp, it feels like she has glass in her throat. “She ghosted. She didn’t even leave a note. I called hospitals, the police. I thought maybe it was starting again - maybe A was back and had grabbed her off the street. I called the bar she was working at, but it was a busy night, no one answered the phone. I drove down there, and her boss said she’d given her notice a week ago. I couldn’t believe it. She told that asshole who always smelled like stale beer and sauerkraut, but she didn’t tell me. I was driving home and I must have spaced. Ran a red light and got t-boned by an SUV. Woke up in the hospital with my knee in traction.”

Alison doesn’t respond immediately. She looks a little claustrophobic, as if she’s itching to roll down a window and let Paige’s story dissipate into the chilly night air. But she doesn’t. She sits with it, absorbs it.

“Does it still hurt?” Alison asks quietly.

“A little less every day.”

Alison sighs deeply, then shakes her head. “Look at us,” she says. “You’d think we spent the whole night listening to sad songs on repeat. Instead of watching a fantastic show with a bunch of queer teenagers.”

“You’re right,” Paige agrees. “Did you see Sara put her hand on Natalie’s knee during _Ring of Keys?_ ”

“I did,” Alison grins. “Did you notice them cuddling on the drive back?”

“Yes! Every time I checked the mirror I’d catch them canoodling.” 

“God,” Alison says. “I miss that.”

Paige chuckles a little before she can help herself.

“I’m sorry,” she says, as Alison gives her a look. “You just never struck me as - I dunno - a snuggly sort of person.”

“Well,” Alison replies, as she reaches over to pick an invisible piece of lint off Paige’s jacket. “I contain multitudes.” She smooths Paige’s lapel for a moment, before opening the door and stepping lightly out of the car. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she says, as she turns to walk up her driveway.

She doesn’t look back, but Paige waits until she’s inside before she drives away.


	4. You'll Find Better Things

Paige is behind the desk in Mrs. Wolfe’s classroom, biting the end of her pencil intently, trying to work out a lesson plan on the Spanish American War. She’s making notes on the Rough Riders and Yellow Journalism when Vice Principal Hackett bustles into the room.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” he says. It’s not the most polite greeting, but he seems even more harried than usual. His thinning hair is unkempt, and he has a soup stain on his tie.

“I just got a call from a reporter,” he continues, in an indignant tone. “Asking how we could be cutting funding from the Queer Youth program, given the high suicide rate of LGBT teens without a support network.”

He wipes his forehead with a handkerchief. “He must have misunderstood, of course. Your budget has recently been adjusted to reflect our dedication to diversity. And equality.”

“It has?”

“Indeed. And we’ve arranged late registration for the regional GLSEN conference in DC next weekend. I hope you’ll be able to clear your schedule. We feel it’s extremely important for Rosewood High to be represented, given our commitment to providing a safe environment for students of all sexual orientations.”

“I can make it work,” Paige says, frowning at the short notice, the obvious insincerity of everything he’s saying. She mentally thanks the god of slow news days for whatever prompted this sudden bout of press interest and subsequent damage control. 

“Wonderful,” he says, heaving a sigh that’s equal parts exasperation and relief. “Stop by the office and my secretary will coordinate the travel arrangements. You can take train on Friday morning, and we can consider it a professional development day, if that’s acceptable to you and Miss DiLaurentis.”

“Of course,” Paige nods. 

Suddenly the whole situation is a lot less puzzling. She does her best to hold back a chuckle. 

“I’ll check with Alison.”

\--------------------

“Are you okay leaving Grace for the weekend?” Paige asks, as the Pennsylvania countryside flashes past outside the train window.

“She’s staying with my sister,” Alison says, a little hesitantly. 

Charlotte DiLaurentis. Ex-stalker. Former mental patient. The second DiLaurentis to fake her own death in recent memory. And now, apparently, doting aunt.

“She and her wife love to babysit. They’ll spend all weekend feeding her candy and teaching her how to break zip ties and spoiling her rotten.”

“I didn’t know Charlotte was -”

“Alive?”

“Married.” 

Alison pulls up a picture on her phone. Melissa Hastings is laughing as Charlotte dips her backwards on the dance floor, both of them resplendent in ivory gowns, a gigantic five tier cake just visible in the corner of the frame.

“It was a beautiful ceremony. Tasteful. Elegant. Ice sculptures of swans.”

Paige looks at the picture for a long time. It’s impossible not to. They look so happy. Radiant.

“That’s amazing,” she says, finally. 

“I know,” Alison agrees. “If Melissa Hastings has a perfect match, maybe there really is someone for everyone.”

\---------------

She’s been in one session after another for the past eight hours, but Paige feels invigorated by the conference. 

“Hey,” she says, as she finds Alison sitting at the hotel bar. “I figured you’d be out with Spencer already.”

“She had to work late. How was your day?”

“Great, actually. I met a few teachers from Philly. They were talking about coordinating some joint activities. Like a mixer or something.”

“Would you have gone to a mixer when you were in high school? We should partner with them for volunteer work or a cultural event. I was talking to someone from Thornville about a self-defense class.”

“That’s smart,” Paige agrees, as the bartender brings over her beer and whatever hot pink liquor Alison is enjoying in her chilled martini glass. “It wasn’t Susan Fayne was it?”

“It was,” Alison answers, glancing casually over at the table where Susan is chatting with her colleagues. “Is she a friend of yours?”

Paige shakes her head. “She plays soccer in the same league as Kendall’s sister. They tried to set us up once.”

“And?” Alison asks, in a leading tone.

Paige shrugs. “We didn’t hit it off.”

“Why not?” Alison says, as she stirs her drink. “Tell me everything.”

“She spent the whole two hours complaining about her ex.” 

“Mmmm,” Alison says. “Sometimes I think that’s cute.”

“When someone clearly isn’t over her last girlfriend?”

“No, when they don’t even know enough to tuck the red flags in their pockets. It’s charming, in a way. A woman like that isn’t hiding anything. On a basic level, she just doesn’t know how.” 

Alison sips her drink, looking pensive.

“Well,” Paige says. “I have a bad habit of ignoring red flags.” She takes a long pull on her beer. “I’m trying to do better.”

The look on Alison’s face is hard to read, but Paige doesn’t have much time to ponder her expression as Spencer Hastings elbows her way between them. 

She hugs Alison while signaling the bartender to bring her a whiskey on the rocks. 

She never was one to waste time.

“Paige,” Spencer says, giving her a look that’s still mildly distrustful. She glances back at Alison. “You two seem oddly chummy.”

“We work together,” Alison says, blandly. 

For a moment, Paige hears an echo of all the times Emily dismissed her, acted like she was unimportant. She’s being brushed off.

Spencer has been here all of thirty seconds, and it’s already like they’re back in high school.

She feels awkward and embarrassed and sixteen again, like no matter how hard she tries, she’s going to wind up knocking over the cupcakes or breaking a mannequin somehow. 

Nothing has changed. It’s the same as it’s ever been.

“We’re friends,” Alison continues, putting a hand on Paige’s knee. 

She feels a little thrill run down her spine.

This part is new.

\------------

Paige is nursing her third drink when Alison excuses herself to call and check on Grace. 

Spencer lines up three tequila shots and arches a perfect eyebrow towards a red haired elementary school teacher on the other side of the bar. 

“So,” Spencer says, still making flirtatious eye contact with the woman, who certainly doesn’t seem uninterested, “What’s your story, McCullers?”

“Is this a conversation?” Paige asks. “Or an interrogation?”

“Sorry,” Spencer says, having the grace to look a little abashed. “Old habits die hard.”

Paige grins. “You can take the girl out of Rosewood, but you can’t take the Rosewood out of the girl.”

Spencer laughs, but her expression is dark. 

She does the first shot, licks the salt off the glass while throwing a seductive look at her new acquaintance. It’s not exactly a surprise to see Spencer hitting on a woman, but she is pretty impressed by how good she is at it. But of course she is. She’s a Hastings.

A Hastings who is now on her third shot, and still standing upright. Her eyes are having a little trouble focusing, but not too bad. She’s still sober enough to follow the line of Paige’s gaze, which is currently keeping tabs on Alison, as she sits on a white leather chair in the lobby, talking on the phone. 

“Are you still in love with Emily?” Spencer asks suddenly, her voice steady and full of steel.

Paige sputters a little into her drink. Spencer leans closer, as if she’s going to stare at her all night until she gets an answer.

“No,” Paige tells her. 

It might not even be a lie.

\-------------

“I don’t think I’m going to be staying at Spencer’s tonight,” Alison announces. She gestures towards the darkest corner of the bar, where Spencer and Liv - she of the freighted eye contact - are making out. “I’ll have to see about getting a room here.”

“That’s silly,” Paige tells her. “You can crash with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just buy me dinner or something.”

“Deal,” Alison says. “Can it be room service?”

\-------------

When they get up to Paige’s room, Alison takes off her shoes and sets her bag down on the bed closest to the door. She places their food order and then flops down on top of the blankets.

“When did Spencer start picking up women?” Paige asks.

“A few years ago, as far as I know. She’s a quick study.”

“I’ll say.”

“You haven’t even seen her motorcycle.” 

Paige turns on the television, and flips through the channels.

“Good for her, I guess.”

“She deserves to be happy.”

“Did you ever -”

“God, no. She’s practically my sister.”

“Have you dated much?” Paige asks, as she lands on an old Buffy episode. “Lately?”

“Not seriously. Between my trash fire of a marriage - and Emily - and Grace being born, I wanted to take some time for myself.” 

She says Emily’s name in a scrunched way that might mean she’s gritting her teeth, or that saying it quickly will ultimately hurt less. Like pulling out a splinter. Ripping off a bandaid.

“Makes sense. It’s been what, four years?”

“True. And I’m certainly not saying I’ve joined a convent or anything.” There’s a knock on the door to signal the arrival of their room service order. “But I want different things now,” Alison says, getting up to sign for it. 

She brings the tray over and sets it down at the foot of Paige’s bed. She concentrates on dividing up the food instead of making eye contact as she continues. 

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re an Ivy League grad who missed the Olympic team by two tenths of a second. Why are you getting sucked into set ups with soccer league leftovers?”

“Did you look up my trial times?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Paige shrugs, chews a bite of her veggie burger as she considers her answer. “It’s not like I don’t want a relationship. It’s just - I get up at five so that I can have the pool to myself before school starts. I work all day, and then there’s practice or strength training and then by the time that’s over, I grab a sandwich from the vending machine and eat it while I grade papers or watch scouting videos or track which adjustments to the program are having the best results. It doesn’t leave a lot of time for dating.”

Alison gives her a skeptical look over a bite of her pasta.

“Okay,” Paige admits. “Maybe after I tried to work things out with Emily, and she made it clear she wasn’t interested, I threw myself into the job and I never looked back.” She flinches a little at the memory of Emily icing her out in the DiLaurentis driveway.

Alison shifts uncomfortably, probably remembering the same thing. She frowns at the television.

“This is a terrible episode. Why are we watching this?”

“It’s Buffy.”

“It’s the one with the fish monsters,” Alison says, rolling her eyes. She picks up the remote and finds an episode of Sex and the City.

“Veto,” Paige says firmly. “We are not watching this.”

“It’s the one where Miranda pretends to be a lesbian,” Alison protests.

Paige grabs the remote and puts Buffy back on. “But Willow is actually a lesbian.” 

“Bisexual erasure,” Alison huffs. “And anyway, she’s not out in Season Two.” She waits until Paige is concentrating on her fries before changing the channel back to Sex and the City.

“Cynthia Nixon is a lesbian in real life,” she proclaims. “So this is actually the queerer show.”

“It’s heteronormative! And so….pink.” 

She makes a move for the remote, but Alison snickers and holds it just out of her reach. They tussle briefly as Paige tries to wrest it away from her, but Alison’s grip is surprisingly strong as she twists her body to prevent Paige from snatching it. They’re both laughing and grappling for the upper hand until Ali squirms sideways, accidentally pulling Paige with her as she sinks backwards on the bed. The laughter stops, but Paige still feels a little breathless. 

The remote falls to the floor, making a soft clunk against the hotel carpet, and Alison’s hand is soft and warm beneath her own. Alison is breathing a little hard, she has her other hand on Paige’s shoulder and the moment is taut with anticipation as Paige instinctively starts to lean forward.

Then she sees the panic in Alison’s eyes.

She sits up immediately, her heart beating hard, putting as much space as she can between their bodies. 

It would be a bad idea. 

For about a thousand reasons. 

Alison doesn’t say anything, just straightens her clothes a bit and moves back over to sit on the edge of her own bed. She busies herself rummaging through her bag.

An awkward quiet descends, broken only by the HGTV show that the scuffle must have landed them on. House Hunters. Disagreeable people arguing about the necessity of hardwood floors and open concept kitchens.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Alison announces.

Paige listens to the water running in the bathroom, confused and remorseful. She tries not to think about how effortlessly Spencer found someone to spend the night with. How Alison's body felt pressed against her own.

Alison stays in the shower for a long time. So long, in fact, that Paige decides it's late enough for her to turn off the lights and get under the covers. She puts the television on a sleep timer, sets the alarm on her phone.

When Alison finally emerges, she seems calmer, as if their weird moment has been successfully steamed away. She could be polite enough to assume Paige is asleep, but of course she doesn't.

“Do you really eat sandwiches out of the vending machine?”

It’s not exactly the question Paige was expecting, but it’s better than nothing. Better than the two of them never speaking again.

“I do.”

“That machine has ham and cheese that’s probably been in there since we were freshmen.”

Paige shrugs in the darkness. “It’s not that bad.”

“No,” Alison says. “You deserve better.”


	5. Extraordinary Machine

The human body is an extraordinary machine. 

Paige’s face breaks the surface of the water and she takes a deep breath before plunging back in. 

Weakness is in the mind. 

Her arms slap against the water. 

It’s about pushing yourself past your mental limits. 

Her feet brush the tile at the edge of the pool. 

It’s all about willpower. 

Breath. Stroke. Breath. 

Don’t think about Alison. 

Breath. 

Her shoulders feel strong, crashing through the water. 

Nothing happened. 

Breath. Stroke. Breath. 

Nothing’s going to happen. 

Her upper body lifts out of the water, propels her forward. 

An image of Alison sitting in the stands for Friday practices rises to the front of her mind. She pushes it down, imagines it sinking to the bottom of the pool. 

Breath. 

Winter settles in. 

Alison texts her a list of queer YA novels she’s trying to convince the library to purchase for next year. Most of them are romances. She thinks about the spike of happiness she got at seeing Alison’s number, imagines it being released, dissolving in the chlorine. 

Her lungs expand and contract. Her arms are windmills through the water.

Caleb Rivers texts her when he’s in town for Thanksgiving. He wants to catch up over lunch. Which turns out to be lunch with Hanna and Alison. It feels like a double date, but it’s not.

She tries to make her mind go still. To be nothing but a body slicing through the water.

Breath. Kick.

Beth Satterfield is thriving. She’s gained weight and muscle. She has a real shot at the relay.

Breath. Pull.

Alison arranges to have her table set up next to Paige’s for Parent-Teacher Conferences. Riley Scott shows up without her parents. Just to check in on how her grades are doing. Alison’s worried frown mirrors her own. Their concern is mutual, if nothing else.

Paige shoves off hard on the turn.

Underwater everything looks wavy and distorted. 

With her goggles on, ear plugs in, the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

Nothing happened. 

Breath. Stoke. 

Nothing’s going to happen.

 

\-----------------------------------

Paige gets out of the pool a little earlier than normal. It’s a quarter to six, but there are rumors flying around that Trip Kahn is selling answer keys to various tests. She wants to adjust some of the questions Mrs. Wolfe’s been using and run new copies before anyone else gets in.

Although someone else already is in, judging by the drone of the hair dryer that's filling the locker room.

Riley doesn’t see Paige approaching until she startles at the sight of her in the mirror.

“You’re here early,” Paige observes. 

“I was running laps.”

Through an empty school. At five in the morning. It’s not even a very good lie.

Paige tries waiting her out. 

Riley doesn’t seem phased. She’s looks as perfectly pressed as her khakis. She’s fastening a delicate gold necklace over her usual black turtleneck, completely unperturbed. 

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you’d like to tell me?” 

Riley looks down, pretends to be absorbed by rummaging for a hairbrush in her bag.

“I have a ton of trig homework. It’s due first period.”

“You don’t seem like the type to cut it so close.” 

“I don’t like to. That’s why I got up so early.”

“I thought it was to run laps.”

“Running clears my mind.”

“Is everything okay at home?” It’s a shot in the dark, but it seems to land.

Riley bristles. “Everything’s _fine_. Just - I’ve gotta go.”

She breezes out without a backward glance.

\---------------------------------

Paige stops by the guidance office on her lunch break to pull Riley’s schedule, but she can’t find the file. It skips from Schmidt to Scovey.

She checks the math department class list instead.

There is no first period trig.

\------------------------------------

It’s a Tuesday evening and Paige is still mulling over the puzzle of Riley’s behavior as she reads through a stack of practice A.P. essays on American Imperialism 1890-1911. She’s lost track of time, but the noises outside in the halls have died down enough that it must be after six. 

She stands up to stretch, then heads over to the vending machine. Which, for the first time in four years, has an Out of Order sign taped to the glass. 

She stares at the block printing in disbelief. Then her phone pings. 

Alison.

>Come over for dinner?

Her stomach flips. She must be hungry.

\---------------------------------

The food at the DiLaurentis house is almost as good as the conversation.

Paige eats roast beef while listening to Grace talk about the Adventure Aquarium. She swallows delectable mouthfuls of buttered asparagus and shows Grace and Ali pictures of the sea turtles she saw when she was snorkeling in Jamaica. By the time Alison brings out the cheesecake for dessert, they’re discussing her chances of being able to teach _Wide Sargasso Sea_ without objections from the school board.

“Let me help you,” she says, as Alison clears their plates.

“I’ve got it,” Alison assures her. “But I know someone who might be thrilled to have you set up the board game for Candyland. Unless you have to hurry home.”

It feels like their eyes are locked for a beat too long.

“No,” Paige says, finally. “No hurry.”

It’s a good thing she isn’t in a rush, too, as the game isn’t quite as quick as she expected.

Every time her red gingerbread piece gets close to the Candy Castle, she seems to draw a card sending her all the way back to Peppermint Stick Forest or the Gumdrop Mountains. 

It’s not just her, either. Grace starts to giggle uncontrollably when Alison winds up stuck in the Molasses Swamp for the third time. Alison herself doesn’t quite hold back a chuckle as Grace gets sent back to the Peanut Brittle House and Paige is booted all the way back to Gingerbread Bridge.

“This game is colorful,” Paige says. “But also kind of evil.”

Then she catches sight of Grace straightening the card stack in a curiously careful manner. 

“Wait a second. Are you two _cheating_?”

Grace collapses into a heap of shrieking laughter.

Alison can’t help laughing, too. “I’m sorry. We do that sometimes, to try and make the game last longer. I should have warned you about the house rules.”

“Unbelievable,” Paige mutters, but she’s grinning in spite of herself.

When she leaves, Alison walks her to the door. 

“Come back next week,” she says. “I’m trying a new recipe.”

Paige leans against the doorframe and gives Alison a questioning look.

“It might be a disaster,” Alison shrugs. “But then again, maybe not.” 

\-----------

"What was wrong with it?" Paige asks, when she sees a guy servicing the vending machine.

“Unplugged,” he scoffs. “Have to replace everything in it, now. About time, too. There were sandwiches in there from when you were in high school.”


	6. The Swirling Storm Inside

Half of any training regimen is pure habit. Doing something so many times it becomes an instinct. Second nature. Something you don’t even think about.

Dinner at Alison’s becomes a weekly habit. One she probably thinks about too much. 

Or maybe she looks forward to it too much. 

It’s a nice change of pace, eating hot food around the small kitchen table instead of unwrapping cellophane alone at her desk.

It’s friendly. The kind of thing that friends might do. Maybe.

She usually stays after dinner for whatever activity Grace picks for them. Finger painting. Stuffed animal tea parties. Moana sing-a-longs.

“She likes you,” Alison says, after Grace falls asleep with her head pillowed on Paige’s knee.

“She asked me to teach her how to swim.” 

If they hadn’t been spending so much time together, she might have missed the way Alison’s mouth flattens for half a second.

“What did you tell her?”

“That I’d have to ask you.”

Alison looks at her daughter’s face for a long time.

“Would you do it?”

“Of course. I just didn’t know if -” She trails off, and for a moment Emily’s absence seems to fill the whole room. It’s like an invisible highlights reel of what could have been. Emily is her navy one piece fastening water wings on Grace’s arms. Pulling her around the pool as she learns to kick board. Holding up her arms to catch Grace as she jumps into the water.

“Emily isn’t here,” Alison says quietly. “You are.”

Paige feels her throat get tight. 

 

“I am.”

\------------------------------

There’s snow on the shoulders of the pizza delivery guy, who turns out to be one of Alison’s former students, now working his way through Ravenswood Community College. She gives him a ten dollar tip. 

“Merry Christmas,” he says, waving as he heads back to his car.

The holiday break starts the day after tomorrow, which means grades are due by the end of the week. Hence the low key dinner, and the stack of essays that need to be marked on the coffee table. Macbeth for Alison. The Volstead Act for Paige. Grace, for her part, is happily practicing writing her alphabet while she pretends to grade a stack of old newspapers.

“It’s really coming down out there,” Alison announces, as she comes downstairs after tucking Grace in. “We might have a snow day tomorrow.”

The wind howls outside, rattling the shutters.

Alison pours them each a glass of wine, tucks her feet into the couch near Paige.

“How’s it going?”

Paige looks up and stretches. “Well, Matthew Hart’s handwriting is so bad that I can’t tell if he’s arguing that the temperance movement led to suffrage or suffering. What about you?”

“Birnam Wood is on the march.”

Paige chuckles, which makes Alison smile as she goes back to grading.

The wine bottle is almost empty and the stack of graded papers is almost complete when Paige’s phone pings. 

“Booty call?” Alison asks, in a tone that doesn’t quite make the leap from mildly jealous to joking.

“No,” Paige says. “The electric company. My power is out.”

Alison pulls the curtain back. There’s six inches of snow on the ground and it’s still coming down fast.

“You should stay here tonight.”

“I’ll be fine. I have four wheel drive.”

“To drive back to your dark, unheated condo?”

Paige hesitates. The truth is that her condo always seems cold and quiet and dark when she goes home after spending time at Alison’s.

“Okay,” she agrees. 

Alison grins. “I love a good sleepover.”

\--------------------

They go through a second bottle of wine before they make their way unsteadily up the stairs.

Alison flips on the light in the guest room. She’s made some updates to the decor, but it’s clearly her old high school bedroom. 

Paige looks out the window at the snow piling up. She can see the flakes falling fast against the lights of the Hastings barn. She turns around to watch as Alison rummages through the bureau drawers, pulling out an old tshirt and sweats and tossing them on the bed without looking at them too closely.

Paige runs a hand over the soft fabric of the faded Rosewood Sharks logo and laughs.

“This is mine,” Paige says, incredulously. “Or, it was mine. I didn’t know what happened to it.”

“Oh god,” Alison says. “Are you sure?”

Paige holds it up to the light. “There’s a tear here,” she says, pointing to a small rip on the right sleeve. “From when I fell off my bike.” 

She shakes her head. “Maybe she forgot it wasn’t hers.”

Alison makes a noise that isn’t quite a laugh, but wants to be. She comes over and touches the shirt, brushing her fingers against the back of Paige’s hand. They hold the fabric of what Emily left behind between them.

“It’s been here all this time,” Alison says. “Who knew?”

\------------------------------------

Paige wakes up early to the sound of an incoming text message.

It’s officially a snow day.

She pads downstairs to make coffee, then decides to make pancakes and scrambled eggs. 

“Careful,” Alison says when she comes downstairs. “A girl could get used to this.”

They eat breakfast and watch Frozen in their pajamas. Paige feels a little like they’re playing house. Going through the motions of what it could be like if they lived together. 

Which is ridiculous. 

They’re not even a couple. 

But if they were. And if they lived together.

It would be like this.

Homey and familial and _nice._

\------------------------------------

“Do you want to build a snow man?” Grace sings, for the thirtieth time.

“I do,” Paige agrees. “Let me get ready.”

\-----------------------------------------

Alison stays inside to finish up her holiday baking.

They wave at her as they make a lumpy looking version of Olaf. 

Afterwards, Grace drags her sled out of the garage and spends the next hour swooping down the small hill between the yard and the woods. Paige watches her and helps carry the sled back up every time. Grace eventually gets so tired that she asks Paige to carry her, too, but she still doesn’t want to go back inside.

“Last one,” Paige tells her. 

It’s a good run, carrying her almost to the tree line.

“Was there a reindeer?” Grace asks, breathlessly. She points to some tracks that do look like they might be from a deer.

“I bet it was,” Paige says. “Do you think he went to ask your mom for some cookies?”

They follow the deer’s trail as it winds back through the Hastings yard, until Paige stops abruptly. 

There’s another set of footprints here. 

Human footprints. 

Going from the woods to the Hastings barn. 

Spencer or Melissa would park in the driveway. 

They wouldn’t hike in through the forest.

“Shh,” she tells Grace, as she picks her up. 

“Let’s be really quiet and look for the reindeer, okay?”

She texts Alison.

\-----------------------------------

“Maybe they have a groundskeeper?” Paige suggests.

Alison is bundled into her winter coat and scarf, but Paige can tell she has a grim look on her face as she shakes her head.

“They don’t. I checked.”

Alison takes Grace and makes a move to walk towards the barn.

“Are you serious?” Paige says. “We should call someone. Spencer’s parents! Or the police!”

“The Rosewood Police? Surely you jest.”

“You can’t take Grace in there! You don’t know what you’re walking into.”

They’re voices must be carrying. Paige points to the barn window, where a shadow is moving behind the curtains.

“Fine,” Alison huffs. She pulls out her phone.

“Pam,” she says, in an overly friendly voice. “We have a bit of a situation here. Do you think you could send Barry over?”

\--------------------------------------

Paige’s feet feel frozen by the time Pam Fields arrives with Barry Maple in tow.

She’s surprised to see Paige, but she doesn’t waste any time on chit chat. “I’ll take the little one,” she volunteers, taking a dozing Grace in her snowsuit off Alison’s hands.

“And I’ll put some hot chocolate on for you girls, alright?”

Barry waits until Pam and Grace are in the house, then he pulls out his sidearm.

“Let’s go.”

\--------------------------------------

They’re crunching through the snow, still fifty feet away when they hear the sound of breaking glass. 

A figure wearing a black coat with the hood pulled up bursts out of the shattered window on the other side of the barn and starts running flat out for the woods.


	7. Just Keep Fighting

They’re crunching through the snow, still fifty feet away when they hear the sound of breaking glass. A figure wearing a black coat with the hood pulled up bursts out of the shattered window on the other side of the barn and starts running flat out for the woods.

Paige takes off after them, but the snow is deep and whoever she’s chasing is nimble and fast and scrambling so desperately that they’re already disappearing into the pines by the time Paige reaches the first trees. 

She keeps going, crashing through the underbrush.

It’s starts snowing again.

She keeps her eyes on the footprints, occasionally catching sight of the flapping black coat up ahead. 

It seems like she might be gaining on them. 

The coat is thirty feet away. 

Paige digs deep, puts on an extra burst of speed. 

She’s so close. 

That’s when she slips.

Her bad knee buckles beneath her.

The coat flutters in the wind, stuck on a tree branch ten feet away.

\------------------------------------

Alison and Barry are inside the barn when she limps back in.

The room looks normal. 

There’s a half finished mug of tea in the sink.

The walls aren’t covered with surveillance photos. 

No dolls. No masks.

She lets out a sigh of relief.

It’s not a lair.

“Are you okay?” Alison asks, rushing to put a hand under her arm.

“I lost them.” Paige sits down heavily on the couch.

Alison takes the coat and wordlessly rolls it into a ball, setting it under Paige’s knee. 

She shakes her head, almost imperceptibly.

Barry has his back turned. He’s examining the window.

“Nothing was taken,” Alison says, gesturing towards the television and fancy blue tooth speakers. “Some of Spencer’s jewelry can be a little too vintage for my taste, but she has quite a few valuable pieces that were left totally untouched.”

Paige frowns. Alison’s using her teacher voice, projecting confidence the way she does to guide an unruly classroom back to order.

She’s hiding something.

“I’ve heard of breaking and entering before, but breaking and leaving is a new one,” Barry muses. “We had a few sightings of a tramp sleeping in the woods last month. Maybe it got too cold for ‘em last night.”

“Sorry to have called you here over nothing,” Alison says, putting a hand on Barry’s arm and steering him towards the door.. 

“Not a problem,” he assures her. “After everything you girls have been through, can’t be too careful.” 

“Don’t move,” she tells Paige. “I’ll be back in a second to sweep up the mess.”

It’s as if they’re in a play, and Paige has no idea what her line is supposed to be

“Okay,” she agrees. “We can put some plastic over the window.”

Alison shoots her a grateful look as she ushers Barry out. 

She pulls the door shut as they leave.

That’s when Paige sees it.

Riley Scott’s messenger bag is hanging on the back of the door.

\--------------------------------------------

Alison is back fifteen minutes later with a thermos of hot chocolate and an ace bandage. “Pam is taking Grace tonight,” she announces. “She’s over the moon.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Paige asks, as Alison rolls up her pant leg to wrap her knee.

“That poor girl doesn’t need the police after her. Whatever’s going on, arresting her isn’t going to help.”

“I’m sorry,” Paige says. “I thought it was -”

“So did I.” Alison lets out a shaky breath. “I was so afraid of the past that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. ‘A’ was always invisible. They never left tracks. They would have vanished before you were done sending that text. Or you couldn’t have sent it, they would have jammed your signal and forced you to go back to the house so they could escape. They would have had twelve ways out of the barn, or they would have hidden inside to slip out behind us and set the building on fire.”

“I forgot,” Paige says. “I forgot what it felt like to be that afraid.”

“I didn’t,” Alison says. She runs a hand over her eyes. 

“But as soon as she broke the window, I knew. This is something else.”

“I thought she might be having trouble at home,” Paige admits. “I found her in the locker room before school one day. I tried to pull her file, but I couldn’t find it.”

“It’s under ‘R’. I spent an afternoon digging for it after Parent Teacher night. She’s a transfer. They moved here from Chicago at the start of the year.”

“Did you call her parents?”

“The phone number for her dad was no good. I tried the one for her mom and it went straight to voicemail. Automated. I left a message but she never called back.”

“If she’s been sleeping in the woods -”

Alison nods. “She must have a damn good reason not to sleep at home.”

“She’s out there,” Paige realizes. “It’s freezing and she doesn’t even have a coat.” 

“I know,” Alison says. “That’s why we have to find her.”

\-------------------------------------

“Who are her friends?” Alison asks, as they make their way back into the woods. Paige’s knee is still aching, but the joint is stable enough. Alison insists on keeping an arm under Paige’s shoulder. Just in case.

“Everyone,” Paige says. “And no one. She’s in all kinds of activities, but I never see her hanging out with anyone in particular.”

“She eats lunch by herself in the library,” Alison muses. “I’ve seen her up there, but I thought she was just under a lot of pressure academically.”

They come to a crumbling old shed. One of the walls is blackened and partially disintegrated. There’s a cracked window covered with duct tape. 

“You think she was staying here?” Paige asks, aghast.

“People do,” Alison says.

She’s right. There are ratty blankets and a deflated air mattress on the floor. There are food wrappers scattered around, mostly protein bars and bottled water. 

Paige swallows hard. The sheets are filthy. And so incredibly thin.

“She’s not here,” Alison says, worried. “But she clearly has been.”

“Do you think her parent’s know anything? Should we go to her house?”

“Unlikely,” Alison says, frowning. “Who knows if she even gave the school a real address.”

“Where else would she go?” Paige asks, helplessly.

Alison’s frown deepens. “I know a few places.”

\-----------------------------------------

The snow is blowing around as Paige drives them to a series of places on Alison’s list.

They start with the library. It’s closed due to the snow.

They try all night restaurants. The Denny’s in Thornville. The Perkins on the border with Ravenswood. A truck stop off the highway. A waitress at IHOP says there was a blonde girl who walked out on her check, stole a coat from the lost and found. 

Alison pays for the food and gives the woman a fifty dollar tip. 

She gives Paige driving directions to a variety of abandoned buildings.

Old factories. 

An abandoned ice rink. 

A drive in with a concession stand that’s closed for the winter.

At each one, Alison seems to know where the gap in the fence is. How to pull to make the padlock release. The door that’s loose on its hinges, that gives just enough to let them in.

It’s quiet in the Jeep as Paige drives them out to the lake to check the summer cabins.

“These places,” Paige says, slowly. “How do you know about them?”

“How to you think?” Alison snaps. “Did you think I was holed up at the Ritz eating bon bons during sophomore year?”

“I’m sorry,” Paige says, “I didn’t think-”

“I saw the look on your face at the shed,” Alison says, her voice sharp. “You looked disgusted.”

“I was horrified! Those blankets were moldy and the floor was covered in rat droppings! I can’t believe anyone would sleep there!”

“You’re lucky,” Alison says, scathingly. “You’ve never been that desperate.”

Paige reaches over and takes Alison’s hand. “I know you’re scared. But we’ll find her.”

The anger seems to wash out of Alison’s in a wave. “I’m sorry.”

“Search now,” Paige says, not letting go of Alison’s hand. “Apologize later.”

“I could call some shelters in Philadelphia,” Alison suggests. “But if she skipped out on her bill at IHOP, she probably doesn’t have any money for the train.”

“Check her coat,” Paige suggests.

Alison gives her look that clearly suggests she can’t believe Paige didn’t already search the coat for clues, but she takes the suggestion and combs through the pockets carefully.

“Forty five dollars,” she announces. “And these.”

She flips on the overhead light and examines the bottle of aspirin, tapping a few of the pills out into her palm.

“Can I have one of those?” Paige asks. “My knee is going to be the size of a basketball tomorrow.”

“These aren’t aspirin,” Alison says, her voice strangled. “Oh god. I didn’t think. I should have thought - the file was right in front of me, and I never -”

“What?” Paige asks. “What’s going on? Is she dealing drugs or something?”

“No,” Alison says. “These are meds. She must be buying them on the street.”

“Buying what on the street? Alison, tell me what’s going on.”

Alison takes a deep breath.

“It’s Estradiol and Casodex.”

Paige closes her eyes. “I missed it, completely.” 

The flicker of fear outside the bathroom. Showering in the locker room hours before anyone else would be in.

“I wouldn’t have gotten there if I hadn’t recognized the pills. It's what Charlotte takes.”

\----------------------------------------

It’s almost 2AM as they pull into the parking lot of the Lost Woods.

No one owns it now, it’s been out of business for years. 

Alison slumps back against the seat. There’s a faint light coming from one of the rooms. As if someone has a trash can fire going inside.

\-----------------------------------------------

They find Riley shivering in the corner.

“You can’t call my parents,” she says, her teeth chattering. “Please.”

“Of course not,” Alison promises, wrapping Riley in her original coat and putting her own jacket over her shoulders on top of it. “Let’s get you somewhere warm tonight. We can talk all this out in the morning.”

\-----------------------------------------------

Some of the story comes out as they head back towards town.

Her father who wants to send her to military school. 

Her mother whose solution is that she should stay out of his sight as much as possible.

“I barely see them. I never go home unless I’m sure they’re already in bed. That’s why I’m at school all the time. Sometimes I sleep backstage in the auditorium. But I went home last night and my dad caught me in the driveway and - he hasn’t seen me in awhile. He wouldn’t let me in the house. He actually started dialing Wellby. So I took off. I went to the shed, but it was so cold. Then I found that barn. I would have been out of there this morning, but I couldn’t get back inside the school because of the snow day.”

She sniffles. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

\---------------------------------------------------

Alison heats up bowls of chili when they get back to her house. 

She hands Paige a bottle of actual aspirin with a small smile.

She gets Riley set up in the guest bedroom with a stack of clean clothes, a down comforter, and a hot water bottle.

Then she comes back downstairs and lays her head on the kitchen table.

Paige rubs her back. 

“Can I show you something?” Alison asks, her voice a little hoarse.

She leads Paige down to the basement. It’s unfinished and cold, a bare bulb hanging down from the ceiling. Alison points up to a crawl space that looks like it stretches underneath the front porch.

“I was on the run,” Alison says. “But I had people I could count on. Friends. Charlotte had no one.” Tears are streaming down her face. “My sister was raised in a mental hospital! She - she had to burrow up there - _in her own home_ \- like an animal! And I want to think the world isn’t like that anymore - that it would be different for Charlotte today, but then -”

“I know,” Paige says. “I know.”

Alison breaks down and starts sobbing in earnest. 

Paige puts her arms around her and Alison’s tears splash the front of her shirt. She’s full on weeping, heaving for breath and Paige feels her own eyes tearing up, too. 

She holds Alison as tightly as she can, and lets her cry.

She strokes her hair gently once Alison’s breathing evens out. 

“You should run,” Alison says, finally. “This is what my family is like. This is why I am the way I am.”

“Are you kidding? You were amazing tonight.”

“I’m a deeply fucked up person.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Look at what I did to Mona. Look at what I did to Jenna! Look at what I did to you! I had four best friends, and I ruined their lives! Because that’s who I am! That’s what I do!”

“No,” Paige insists. “You listen to me. _None of this was your fault._ You were a child. You were in pain and you lashed out. You are not your family. Alison, there was no part of you that deserved to sleep in that shed. _There is no part of you that deserves that now._ ”

And then Alison is crying again, her face buried against Paige’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she says, finally. “It’s been a long night.”

“It has. It’s okay.”

“Will you stay over again? You can sleep in my room and I’ll take Grace’s bed.”

“Whatever you want.”

“You should be here in the morning, so we can help make a plan.”

“Of course. We’ll figure it out.”

“She doesn’t have anyone. She’s all alone.”

“She’s not alone,” Paige says, firmly. “She has us.”


	8. Don't Look Away

Paige has been an athlete all her life. 

She’s seen how adversity can create a bond between individuals, transform them into a team. 

She shovels the driveway while Alison makes breakfast.

She picks up Grace from Pam’s house and takes her Christmas shopping while Alison and Riley meet with Melissa to go over various legal options. After which, Charlotte sweeps in to take Riley on an impromptu shopping trip.

Alison uploads their grades for the last week of the semester. 

Paige picks up extra groceries.

She helps Alison set out shredded lettuce and diced tomatoes for a low key taco bar. Melissa is waiting for Charlotte and Riley to return, so the three of them are maneuvering around the island of Alison’s slightly cramped kitchen.

“Melissa thinks emancipation is the right move,” Alison says, reaching around Paige to grab the sour cream. “Riley’s sixteen. She doesn’t need two more years of worrying about them sweeping in and packing her off to conversion therapy.”

“That’s good,” Paige agrees. “So she can stay here and finish school?”

“Bad optics,” Melissa says, cutting in. “God, is any of this stuff low fat?” 

She examines the salsa suspiciously as she continues. “The court wouldn’t allow a teenage girl move in with a male teacher. A student moving in with a bisexual single mother who also happens to be her English teacher? It’s fine as an emergency measure. But long term, it’s a scandal waiting to happen.”

“In Rosewood?” Paige protests. “The town where Ezra Fitz dated Aria Montgomery?”

“It’s a ridiculous double standard,” Melissa agrees. “But I’m calling the case like I see it. Take it up with the patriarchy! I don’t want to leave the door open for any unsavory accusations.”

“But what about what’s best for Riley?”

“What’s best for Riley is to keep her safe from any further damage her parents might try to do.”

“What about foster parents?” Paige asks. “Could we take her in that way?”

Melissa raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I won’t pretend to know what you’ve got going on here, but Alison’s police file is three inches thick. She did time in a mental institution.” She spears a tomato with her fork. “It’s a miracle she got a teaching license, honestly.”

“Can Paige get approved?” Alison asks. 

Melissa sighs. “Even if she could, It would take at least two months. We don’t want Riley placed in the system while you wait.” 

“So you’re saying there’s nothing we can do?” Paige asks, exasperated.

“There’s a lot we can do,” Melissa insists. 

“We just need to find a creative solution.”

\-----------------------------

The creative solution presents itself in the form of Ashley Marin, who offers Riley a job as a housekeeper at the Radley in exchange for room and board plus a small weekly stipend.

“It’s hard work,” she warns. “Scrubbing toilets and cleaning up after god knows what has gone on in those rooms. But you can keep whatever tips you make. And after six months you’ll qualify for health insurance.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do it,” Riley says. “When can I start?”

Ashley smiles. “I like your enthusiasm. We can start training next week.”

After she’s gone, Riley sits on the couch reading an old copy of _Sense and Sensibility._

“Are you doing okay?” Paige asks her. “I know this is probably all a lot.”

Riley shakes her head. “It doesn’t feel real. Everyone is being so nice.”

She runs her thumb along the spine of the book. “I don’t even know Ashley Marin.”

Alison comes out and hands both of them mugs of tea.

“She’s a good person,” she says. “She understands what it’s like to have a rough start.”

\-------------------------------------

Paige gets it now. 

The magnetic force that used to draw the eyes of the entire school towards Alison. 

She doesn’t court that kind of attention anymore, but her presence still changes the air in a room, charges it with possibility.

Spending time with Alison inevitably leads to wanting to spend more time with her. 

The holidays pass in a blur. Paige goes to church with her parents on Christmas Day and eats a quiet dinner at their house, but otherwise spends most of her time at Alison’s.

She assembles Grace’s new bicycle while Alison teaches Riley how to knit.

Riley lets Grace paint her toenails. 

Grace asks Riley to read her a bedtime story.

They all go to the Natural History museum together. See the latest movie with singing animals. 

They spend a day at an indoor water park with a lazy river, where Paige tries hard not to stare at Alison in her red bikini. She doesn’t completely succeed.

They’re so busy that it’s easy to get absorbed in the routine. To plan out the day’s adventure without talking about what any of this means. 

There are moments when it seems inevitable. As if surely they’ll come together by the sheer gravitational pull between them.

Alison is drying the dishes. Paige hands her a plate. Their fingertips brush and Alison turns toward her, then blushes and steps back.

Grace and Riley are both upstairs asleep. Alison and Paige are on the couch watching a Top Model marathon. Alison pours Paige another glass of wine, then tucks a strand of Paige’s hair behind her ear. 

They lock eyes.

Alison looks away.

\----------------------------

Everything feels so natural, it’s hard for Paige to remember it wasn’t always like this. 

It’s only been a couple of weeks, but moving Riley into her new digs at the Radley feels weirdly like they’re dropping a kid off at college.

“She’ll be fine,” Alison says, bracingly.

“She’s a teenage girl. She’s free to be herself in her own space for the first time in a long time. She’s probably ecstatic.”

Alison buckles Grace into the car seat that Paige keeps in her back seat now.

\---------------------------

School starts up again. 

Swim season kicks into high gear. 

Practices get longer. Districts are around the corner. 

The State Championship meet is creeping up on the horizon.

She’s leaving school later and later, but she still stops at Alison’s most nights on the way home.

When she’s too late for dinner, Alison always heats something up.

Sometimes she’s just in time for finger painting or an impromptu stuffed animal fashion show or whatever else the DiLaurentis girls have planned. 

One night, they push all the furniture to the corners of the living room so that Grace can practice jump roping indoors.

Sometimes, she heads out when Alison puts Grace to bed, driving home in the dark to her condo. Sometimes she stays and grades papers with Alison on the couch.

Sometimes she falls asleep and wakes up to find herself tucked carefully under an afghan. Alison smiles and hands her a cup of coffee.

Sometimes she falls asleep and wakes up with her head resting on Alison’s shoulder.

\------------------------------------------

The Sharks are the most dominant team Rosewood has fielded in years.

Everyone else is competing for second place.

It’s mid-January and they host a meet against Scranton and Butler.

Rhodes beats Paige’s pool record in the 100m free.

Five minutes later, Bristow smashes Emily’s time in the 50m.

The team is celebrating in the locker room and Paige is double checking the times on her clipboard when Alison comes over to congratulate her.

“Looks like the Sharks haven’t lost their bite. Even though you aren’t watching meet tapes till midnight anymore.”

“It’s weird,” Paige says. “Not channeling all my energy into them a hundred percent of the time  
makes my focus way sharper when I am.”

“Good,” Alison says. “I’d hate to be a distraction.”

“You would love to be a distraction,” Paige tells her. “But it’s fine.”

Kendall walks by with a box of letters and a pole to change the names on the records board.

“I used to walk around the other side of the band hallway to avoid looking at that thing,” Alison muses. “I hated seeing your names up there together. It seems so silly now.”

Alison’s hand is warm on Paige’s arm.

Paige reaches her other hand over and rests it on top of Alison’s.

Alison smiles.

Emily’s name disappears one letter at a time.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Word gets around. 

A senior who works part-time as a bellhop at the Radley lingers behind after English class. His mom is gone and his dad drinks too much. He has a scholarship offer from Danby, but he’s worried about his little brother.

A girl in one of Paige’s gym classes shuffles into her office and bursts into tears. She’s being bullied so badly she’s thought about hurting herself so she won’t have to school.

A sophomore falls asleep in Alison’s fourth period class, then admits she stays awake all night worrying her mom might get picked up by ICE. 

A junior on the tennis team thinks her boyfriend gave her an STI, but she’s afraid to tell her parents. She asks Paige for help.

One of the girls running for Class President accuses her ex-boyfriend of forwarding a topless picture of her to a bunch of his bros. He’s on the basketball team. Coach Mitchell says they can’t do anything because it happened outside of school hours. The girl could be in legal trouble if she took the picture, Coach Wilson claims.

Alison takes the issue to Hackett, flanked by Paige and Ella and the girl’s mother. On a day when the Vice Principal just so happens to be giving a tour to the head of the Carisimi Group’s educational philanthropy division.

“Boys will be boys,” Hackett insists, weakly.

The woman from Carisimi frowns.

Alison puts both hands on his desk. 

“Boys will be expelled,” she insists.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

They do get expelled. And a little jail time to boot.

It turns out Detective Tanner is still very eager to make arrests.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

They have a celebratory dinner at the Grille. 

Riley’s emancipation went through.

Her name change has just been finalized. 

Melissa and Charlotte and Ashley are there, along with Grace in her booster seat.

Riley tears up. 

It’s the first time she’s ever had her name on a cake.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a Saturday night in early February. Riley is working and Grace is at Pam’s for the night.

Paige and Alison head into Philadelphia for dinner and the orchestra’s Tchaikovsky Spectacular.

“Thank you,” Alison says, as they walk slowly through the icy streets. “I’ve gotten so used to doing things on my own, but the past few months - it was nice to feel like I didn’t have to.”

“I could say the same to you,” Paige says, earnestly. 

“This isn’t easy to talk about,” Alison tells her. 

She moves closer to Paige, who instinctively puts an arm around Alison’s waist. 

“I was married. To someone I thought I could trust. And then I believed Emily when she said we were meant to be. But this is the first time I’ve ever understood what it means to have a partner.”

Alison takes a shaky breath before she continues.

“It terrifies me.”

Paige stops walking. She keeps her voice as steady as she can.

“What are you afraid of? You can tell me.”

“That you don’t feel anything for me, that this is some kind of long con and you’re just waiting for the right moment to rip off your mask. That the game will start up again the second I have any kind of happiness to wreck. That you’ll realize I’m not a good person and decide you don’t want to be with me. That I’ll need you so much that if you left it would destroy me. And maybe - that I already do.”

Paige takes Alison’s hand and pulls off her glove. She places Ali’s fingers gently against her neck.

“See?” she says. “No mask.”

It’s cold, and they’re standing so close that the frosty clouds of their breath mingle together.

“I know who you are, Ali. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Alison lets out a breath and leans forward.

Paige doesn’t look away.

The kiss is slow and sultry with a hungry edge. Alison’s fingers scrape against the back of Paige’s neck as she opens her mouth and presses their tongues together. Paige feels a moan rising in the back of her throat as the kiss deepens. It’s like the coils of a stove, the heat building up between them until it glows. They both draw the kiss out, the connection is so intense it seems like neither of them can get enough of each other. Alison always thought going weak at the knees was just a figure of speech, but she does feel a little like she’s on the verge of swooning when they finally come up for air.

Paige is smiling so wide that Alison can’t help tracing her fingers over her lips.

“What does this mean?” Paige asks.

“I don’t know,” Alison says, a little dazed.

“Come on,” Paige laughs, as she kisses her again. “I think you do.”


	9. Everything You Thought You Wanted

Paige believes in hard work. Goals. Statistics and measurable improvements.

She’s never been a big believer in luck.

Until she started waking up every morning next to Alison. 

Until the first time Grace spontaneously calls her Mama.

Until they’re at Disney on Ice, with Riley and Alison sharing a cotton candy, and Grace perched on Paige’s shoulders for a better view. An old lady behind them smiles and says, “You have a beautiful family.”

In those moments, she feels like the luckiest woman in the world.

\----------------------------------

The sex is so hot, it feels combustible. Having to wait until after Grace goes to sleep gives it an edge, makes it oddly more thrilling if her hands graze Ali’s breasts while she’s rinsing dishes at the sink. Or if Paige runs a hand through her sweaty hair after fixing the leaky faucet in the kitchen and sees Alison bite her lip. 

Alison tears at Paige’s clothes the moment she locks the bedroom door, she kisses her hard, greedy for the white hot friction of their bodies thrusting against each other.

She knows exactly what she likes and isn’t shy about making sure she gets it. She can be a little bossy in bed. Deciding when she wants to be on top and pin Paige’s hands above her head, when she wants to flop back against the pillows and let her legs fall open as she pushes Paige downward.

But she encourages Paige to be just as explicit with her desire. If Paige isn’t forthcoming, Alison takes it as a challenge, exploring every part of Paige’s body with her fingers and tongue. Noting what draws a quick intake of breath, what releases it in a needy whimper.

“Oh, you like that,” she says, her teeth grazing Paige’s ear. She shifts the angle of her wrist in a way that makes Paige’s breathing get heavier, makes her eyes flutter close and her hips rise off the bed. “Do you want more?” She makes Paige say yes, makes her say please, but then gives her what she wants with generous abandon. 

Once, Ali’s tone drifts close to the one she always used as Queen B, and it sparks something deep inside Paige that triggers an orgasm so intense she feels like she’s found a new plane of existence, like Ali has fucked her into a state of pure energy.

“Is it always like this with you?” Paige asks, panting a bit as her heart rate slows back to normal.

“No,” Alison replies, as she listens to Paige’s heart rate slow back to normal. “This is how it is with you.”

\----------------------------------------------------

They try to keep things on the down low at school.

Ella definitely knows something is up. Dr. Sullivan can’t stop smiling when she sees them together. Coach Wilson asks if they’re sisters.

\---------------------------------------------------

The Sharks cut a swath through the competition during the last regional meet of the year. 

The relay team sets a new state record. Rhodes and Bristow post three more record times between them. Cosgrove sets a pool record for the breaststroke. Gauthier answers by setting a new pool record for the 100m fly. 

The other coaches watch with their mouths agape. They double check their stop watches as Bristow posts a time that’s two seconds faster than the boys record for the backstroke.

College scouts are in the stands, taking notes.

“You could get some offers,” her dad opines gruffly, over dinner. “Iowa. Maybe USC.”

“I’m not thinking about that. I’m focusing on States.”

He nods, chewing his steak. “Get on as an assistant for Division I, put in a few years, you could land a program in a rebuild lower down.”

“I’m happy where I am, Dad.”

“Everyone’s happy till they get a better offer.”

\----------------------------------------------------

Paige is tucking Grace in for the night, but she seems oddly restless, squirming like a wiggle worm under the covers.

“What’s going on with you tonight?” Paige asks. 

Grace bounces a little against her pillow.

“Pam-ma told me you know Em-a-lee.”

Paige feels suddenly out of her depth.. 

When in doubt, tell the truth.

“I did.”

Grace hugs her stuffed dinosaur a little tighter.

“Am I _just_ like her?”

“Well,” Paige says slowly. “She’s very kind, like you. And she’s a good dancer, like you.”

Grace is hanging on her every word.

“And sometimes you wrinkle your nose the exact same way she wrinkles her nose.”

“I do?”

“You do. But you know who I think you’re just like?”

“Who?” Grace asks, her eyes wide.

“Like Grace.”

Grace erupts into a fit of giggles.

“Do you want to have a two minute dance party before bed?”

Grace nods and jumps up, perfectly happy.

\--------------------------------

Alison is on the couch folding a load of laundry.

Paige sits down next to her, puts a hand on her knee.

“Grace asked me about Emily tonight.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Not much.”

Alison sighs. “I guess she was bound to ask someday. The resemblance is uncanny. I’m sure she’s heard people talk.”

“What have you told her?”

“That she came out of my tummy, but part of Mommy’s friend Emily is inside of her, too.”

“Kids are naturally curious.”

“I know,” Alison says. “But I’m afraid if I start trying to explain, the whole story is going to tumble out and completely overwhelm her.”

Paige squeezes her hand. “Why don’t you practice on me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.”

\-------------------------------

Alison stalls for a few minutes, puttering around and putting a kettle on for tea.

“Grace wasn’t something we planned for. I love her more than anything, but the pregnancy was a complete violation. Archer stole Emily’s eggs and implanted them in me. As another play in the stupid game. I didn’t know. I couldn’t consent.”

The kettle whistles. It sounds like a shriek.

“Looking back, I was angry. I blamed Emily for not yanking the pen out of my hand when I signed myself into that terrible place. For being half of this invasive parasite that had been planted in my body against my will. For pressuring me to have the baby. For forcing us to finally give our relationship a try under completely impossible circumstances.”

“I was still reeling. I thought I’d lost my sister. My husband was dead. And good riddance, but I was still mourning the loss of the man I thought he was. And Emily’s main way of dealing with everything was to never talk about it, to pretend like it didn’t happen. She wanted things to go back to normal so fast, it gave me whiplash.”

“Maybe we’d both built it up too much in our heads. We thought finally getting together was the hard part. That once we survived all the bad stuff, being a couple would be easy. But it wasn’t. It was a lot of fucking work and we weren’t good at it. And we had all these huge issues that we weren’t dealing with, so we wound up snapping at each other constantly. Or worse, screaming at each other over nothing. Who forgot to write frozen peas on the shopping list. Whether or not the shampoo bottle was recyclable.”

“Meanwhile, there was a ticking clock getting louder and louder reminding us that we didn’t have a lot of time to figure it out before a baby was going to be added to the equation.” 

Alison pours the water into two cups, watches as the steam rises.

“You know how Emily is. She hates fighting. She avoids conflict. She shuts down. It got to the point where we were barely speaking to each other. A month before my due date, I forced a conversation. Told her I didn’t want us to become my parents. She swore she didn’t want to give up, but I could tell she was lying. She might have stuck it out awhile longer, out of obligation, even if we were both miserable. But I didn’t want to try to build a future on a sense of duty and simmering resentment.”

“So I told her to go. I gave her permission. And the moment the words were out of my mouth - for a few seconds, she looked happier than she had in months. She was relieved.”

“In hindsight, she was just as traumatized as I was. She was searching for something that would give it all meaning. But we had no business making such a huge life decision in the middle of all that chaos.”

“You don’t want Grace to think you regret it,” Paige realizes. “Or to think she was something bad that someone did to you.”

“That’s why I don’t talk about all this with her. She’s my whole world now. I love her. We’re solid. But back then - I was a mess. I wasn’t eating. I couldn’t sleep. I thought about having the baby on Pam’s doorstep and running away again. I stood at the top of the stairs and thought about…” 

She wipes a hand against the corner of her eye. “It was a dark time.”

“But you got through it. You did the right thing for you and your daughter.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“It’s the truth,” Paige insists. “We can tell her that she was a surprise. We can say that Emily wanted to help people have kids, and that’s why part of her is in Grace. We can focus on how special Grace is, and how happy we are to have her.”

“Thank you,” Alison says, putting her hand over Paige’s. “For always meaning it when you say we.”

\---------------------------------------------

They’re getting ready for bed. Paige is brushing her teeth while Alison puts on a night cream.

“The worst part was, it felt like someone stole the joy out of the whole experience. I never got to be all gooey with excitement over baby names. I never got to sit in a rocking chair and have my partner read to my belly.”

“Do you ever think about having more kids?”

“I think about it. What about you?”

Paige slides into bed and strokes Alison’s hair. “I’m an only child, so I always imagined having a bunch of kids. Two little girls and a baby boy. I had such a vivid picture in my head. Tadpole swim at the Y. The carousel at Franklin Square Park. Grilling out in the backyard in the summer and watching the kids play in the grass.” 

Alison smiles, sleepily. “That’s a nice picture.”

\----------------------------------------------------

Scouts start showing up for regular practices.

There are rumors Bristow and Rhodes want to stick together.

Recruiters are salivating at the prospect.

Ben Coogan shows up for Arizona State.

He knows Rosewood.

He invites the girls out for beers with Coach Mitchell.

Rhodes laughs in his face.

He shows up late at night in Bristow’s driveway.

Paige bans him from campus and notifies ASU.

Coach Fulton is at Hollis now.

She calls and pitches their program. 

Hints that she could find a place for Paige.

Coaching the top levels.

Paige doesn’t bite.

Fulton is surprised.

“Isn’t this what you always wanted?”

\-----------------------------------------------------

Alison still has nightmares. 

Asleep and awake.

She flinches involuntarily whenever someone stands outside the patio doors.

Sometimes she wakes up silent and shaking. 

She can’t watch anything with Anthony Hopkins. His voice reminds her of Silence of the Lambs.

Paige asks her if she wants to talk about it. 

She usually doesn’t.

She can’t sleep with the bed sheets tucked in. 

“It feels too much like a straitjacket.”

Not a figure of speech. An actual comparison.

Sometimes she wakes up screaming.

Fortunately Grace is a sound sleeper.

Paige asks her if she wants to talk about it.

Ali gasps out the words: Masks. Needles. Clumps of dirt covering her face.

Paige holds her tight. Stays awake with her. Whispers reassurance. Talks about everything and nothing. 

Hanna’s new line. _It’s okay._ The latest episode of Aria’s flash fiction podcast. Beth’s latest time in the second leg of the relay. _I’m right here._ Charlotte wanting to take Grace to Disney World next month, whether or not it’s a test run for her and Melissa starting a family. _I got you._ How Riley taught Grace to play Heart and Soul with her on the piano, even though she has to stand up on the piano bench to do it. _You’re safe now._

Sometimes Alison barely remembers the dream. She wakes up choking for breath, engulfed in a wave of nameless, faceless, terror.

”It’s not real,” Paige murmurs. She rubs small circles on Alison’s back. Tangles their legs together as ballast to try and tie her to the present moment, here and now. “It’s not real. This is real.”

“This is real,” Alison agrees softly as she falls back asleep.

\-------------------------------

Districts are a complete triumph.

Sharks at the top of every race that matters.

Bristow and Rhodes are breaking state records they already hold, beating their own times.

Competing against themselves because no one else comes close..

Gauthier sets a pool record. 

Beth Satterfield subs into the 50m fly when Conrad gets a foot cramp.

She wins it. Handily.

There’s a sense of jubilation in the air. 

The team streams back into the locker room, shouting and pumping their fists in the air.

The feeling lingers in the air like the smell of chlorine.

A sense that anything is possible.

That’s when she feels the hand on her shoulder.

She knows before she turns around.

The glossy tangle of dark hair.

The shy smile.

The staff badge from UCLA.

_Emily._


	10. Time Will Do the Talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sorry for the long delay in updating! After clearing my schedule for writing during the month of June, July was not heavy on the free time! But I'm hoping to have the last pieces of this story up within the next couple of weeks! Thanks for sticking with it, everyone!_

_Emily._

Emily, here. At the pool. Looking at Paige like no time has passed. Emily’s like that. She always waltzes back in like a time traveler, expecting to find everything exactly how she left it.

Paige takes an involuntary step backwards, water from the tiles squelching under her shoes.

“Hey,” Emily says, flipping her hair nervously. “I mean, hi.” She laughs a little. “ I don’t know what I mean. It’s good to see you.”

“Are you scouting?” Paige asks, fighting to keep control. To focus on whatever the business on hand might be. “For UCLA?”

“Oh,” Emily says, like she’s almost forgotten. She tugs lightly at her badge. “Yeah, I am.”

“So you’re here to get me to get you a meeting?”

“No,” Emily insists. “Listen, it’s not like that.”

“What’s it like, then?” Paige asks. Her shock is starting to ebb away. They’ve done this so many times before. The dance of Emily returns. Shock. Anger. Apologies. Promises. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

“Paige,” Emily says, her voice full of feeling, “I know you’re mad. You have every right to be.”

“I’m not mad,” Paige replies. “But I’m not doing this again.”

She heads into the locker room without looking back.

\---------------------------------

Paige walks through the door and Grace comes flying downstairs in a whirl of tulle to greet her, wrapping her small arms around Paige’s legs. 

“How was ballet?” Paige asks. 

“She’s a natural,” Alison says, giving her a quick kiss hello. “How were the Sharks? Did you make everyone else look like minnows?”

Paige grins. “More like guppies.”

“That’s my girl.”

\------------------------------------------------------------

Riley comes over and makes dinner. Garlic and olive oil pasta with flecks of red pepper. A crusty bread that Alison helped her bake. 

Grace stands on her chair to demonstrate her twirls.

Alison’s knee rests against Paige’s under the table. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

She waits until Grace is asleep. 

“Ella said the drama club could help with sets and tech. It’s an ambitious senior project but I love their initiative,” Alison is saying. 

“I’m sorry,” Paige says. “I spaced. What project is it?”

“Genderqueer Shakespeare,” Alison says, coming over and gently massaging her shoulders. “Which we can talk about later. You must be exhausted.”

“I saw Emily today.”

Alison’s hands go still. 

Paige reaches up and rests her hand on Alison’s. “She’s scouting for UCLA. She’s here to get a meeting with Bristow and Rhodes.”

“I had no idea. She didn’t even call.”

“I didn’t realize you were still in touch.”

“We’re not, really. Group texts. The occasional late night phone call. She’s drunk, she just broke up with her girlfriend.” Alison sighs. “I texted her after Christmas and told her I was seeing someone. I didn’t hear from her again.”

“If they sent her all the way from California, she’s probably going to be in town for a few days.”

Alison bites her lip. “I don’t want this to complicate things. Whether Emily is here or not, it doesn’t change anything for me. It doesn’t change how I feel.”

“No,” Paige says. “It doesn’t change a thing.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

But it does change things. Paige feels it as they move through the rest of the weekend. 

She and Alison are both on edge. Alison’s eyes are darting in all directions as they run errands. Even at home, they’re on the alert, half-expecting a knock on the door at any moment, a buzzing from one of their phones. It’s as if the regular rhythms of their lives are suddenly laced with trip wires.

Emily, being Emily, never shows.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Paige swings by the Brew just after six. She slept late, is skipping the early morning time in the water. She has twenty minutes before Alison’s alarm goes off, just enough time to slide back into bed with coffee and pastries.

It’s early enough that she figures she’ll be the only customer in The Brew. The blonde barista looks half asleep as she takes her order and starts ringing her up. 

“Eighteen fifty-six,” she yawns.

Paige is handing her a twenty when the trip wire breaks.

“Put it on my tab.”

Emily rises from the couch, looking a little rumpled. Her hair is mussed, and her shirt is wrinkled. As if she spent the night in her car, or possibly upstairs with the barista.

“You don’t need to do that,” Paige says, firmly. 

Emily brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Actually, I do. I shouldn’t have ambushed you after the meet. It got everything off on the wrong foot.”

Paige nods. Everything still feels off balance. Like a square dance where someone moves in the opposite direction and throws the whole pattern out of whack.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Emily admits. “UCLA doesn’t just want Bristow and Rhodes. They want you, too.”

“I have a job,” Paige points out. “I have a life here.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t love California,” Emily says. “Palm trees. The ocean. No scraping ice off your windshield in the winter. You were happy there.” 

She looks into Paige’s eyes, her expression serious and hopeful.

“ _We_ were happy there. Maybe we could be again.”

Paige isn’t sure whether she wants to laugh or cry. This is the moment she spent so many years of her life waiting for. It’s here. All those wishes on stars and pennies tossed into fountains have finally caught up with her. Now it’s here, and there’s no swelling music, no running towards each other across a meadow full of wildflowers. Just the regular smell of coffee and a mingled feeling of resentment and annoyance.

“We weren’t happy,” Paige says. “I thought we were. But looking back, I was trying to build a life with someone who desperately wanted to go it alone.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You never mean to. Not that it matters anymore. I know this used to be how it worked with us. We’d wind up in the same place and decide to give it another chance. But things are different now. I’m with someone.”

“Oh,” Emily says, quietly. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to complicate things. But it was always so easy before. To pick up where we left off. Don’t you ever wonder if that means we’re meant to be?”

“Emily,” Paige says, putting a hand on Emily’s shoulder gently. “It means I was your fallback plan. But I’m not treading water anymore. I’ve moved on. I’m happy now.”

“I loved you,” Emily says, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Sometimes it feels like I don’t know what was real and what was just part of the nightmare - but I know I loved you.”

“I loved you, too.” 

Paige feels like this is a lightning bolt moment, like she’s been struck in the chest. She hasn’t been, but the off balance feeling is gone. Past tense.

“I have to go,” Paige says. “But we have an open practice on Thursday. I can give you ten minutes for a general pitch for UCLA. It’ll be optional, but it has to be for the whole team.”

The barista sets a bag of warm croissants on the counter. “Hazelnut Chai Latte and a Vanilla Caramel Macchiato with Almond milk.” 

Emily stares at the coffee, then looks at Paige as she reaches for the drinks carrier.

“I used to make those all the time,” Emily says, slowly. “It’s -”

“I know,” Paige nods. “It’s Alison’s favorite.”

\-------------------------------------------------

“What’s wrong?” Alison asks, as she steps out of the shower. “I thought you’d be at the pool by now.”

“I lied,” Paige says. “Also, I got you coffee.”

Alison towels her hair dry a bit more aggressively than she normally might. But she takes the coffee and sets it on her vanity. 

“Is this about Emily?”

“Seeing her did change something for me,” Paige admits. “Or, it helped me recognize a change. I realized I’m not in love with Emily Fields anymore.” 

She wraps her arms around Alison before she continues.

“I’m in love with you.”


	11. Tale as Old as Time

It’s weird, being back at the State Championships as a coach.

It’s still weird, being out of the water sometimes. Being helpless in the moment to do more than hope and cheer and will the stopwatch numbers to low times. 

Also a little weird, seeing Emily and Alison sitting together in the stands, without feeling the old kick of jealousy in her stomach. Alison’s taken charge and forced them back into at least a semblance of friendly footing. 

Paige nods in their direction, then narrows her focus to the lanes, the swimmers poised to dive in. Her world goes aquamarine as she watches the Sharks glide through the lanes, counting the seconds, her breath falling into a rhythm that matches theirs.

Bristow and Rhodes dominate every moment they’re in the water. The Sharks as a team are on a streak, building up wins and breaking pool records across the board. Beth Satterfield brings home the final leg of the relay with a strong butterfly that has all of the Rosewood fans on their feet cheering.

This is it. The big moment. The climax of every feel good sports movie. It’s what she’s been working for, what she’s always been working for, for years. The whole team is out of the water, high fiving and hugging and Kendall is tossing the clipboard in the air in triumph. The stands are full of parents crying happy tears. Paige is swept up in it, too, the euphoria of victory and the huge surge of love and pride in her team, in all they’ve accomplished.

The weirdest thing of all is how all of this isn’t the best or most important thing that’s happened this year. She locks eyes with Alison and feels another swell of emotion. It’s not even close. 

\----------------------

And just like that, the season is done. All their hard work, all of the energy they’ve poured into training, all the victories small and large--it’s all behind them. In front of them, a celebratory dinner at an Italian restaurant where everyone can gorge themselves on carbs and an overnight at the Courtyard Pittsburgh Downtown.

Paige is fumbling with the room key a little, after polishing off most of a bottle of wine with dinner. “It’s like, when you’re grinding out laps everyday, and then all of a sudden your lung capacity balloons and it feels like you found a hidden chamber in there or something. Or the first time you run hard enough to hit a runner’s high.”

Alison takes the key from her hand, smiling as she unlocks the door. She rests a hand on the small of Paige’s back. “Your sports analogies are a little wasted on me, but go on.”

“I don’t know. It’s like discovering your body is capable of doing something you never expected.”

“What is?”

“This,” Paige says, pointing at Alison and then herself. “You and me and Grace and Riley and - one night I saw Riley reading Grace a bedtime story and Grace was snuggling that giant teddy bear that Hanna gave her, and it’s - or, sometimes when I wake up and you’re still asleep with your arm wrapped around me - or, I pull in the driveway and see all the lights on and I know everyone I care about is inside - and I’d never felt like that before, and now I feel it all the time. Every day. I feel this huge and ferocious love and it keeps surprising me because it keeps growing and changing and getting deeper, like a whole new chamber of my heart is opening up, and it surprises me every single day.”

Alison kisses her, slow and certain. “I know,” she says, her breath against Paige’s lips. “I know exactly what you mean.”

\------------------

It’s hours later, but probably not morning yet. It’s hard to judge the time by the streetlights filtering in through the hotel curtains, but Paige is sure it’s either too late or too early for her phone to be going off so insistently. 

Alison stirs beside her, then sits up as Paige pats around on the nightstand, knocking her phone to the floor.

Paige’s phone goes quiet, just as Alison’s starts to buzz.

Ali picks it up and listens for a moment. Her voice is clipped. “Where? No. Do _not_ let them out your sight. We’ll be right there.”

Paige is already pulling on her jeans as Alison hangs up.

“That was Emily,” she says. “Bristow and Rhodes are in trouble.”

\----------------------

Trouble, it turns out, is a packed nightclub called Bretaza. It has flashing multicolored lights, a sticky floor, and an apparently lax policy around checking ids.

“What were you _thinking_?” Paige demands, as Rhodes vomits into a trashcan in the parking lot. “You’re _captains_. You just won the State Championships. You have colleges lining up to offer you space in their programs! And you’re willing to risk all that for a night on the town?”

“Please,” Bristow says, “it’s not what it looks like.”

“Really?” Paige scoffs, hearing her father towering behind her words. “Because it looks like you two broke curfew and snuck out of the hotel in a strange city to go to a bar. What part isn’t what it looks like?”

“Here,” Alison says, handing Rhodes a bottle of water. “Drink this. And tell us exactly what’s going on here.”

“We did sneak out,” Bristow admits. “But only because we didn’t want Gauthier to go alone.”

“Gauthier?” Paige says, taken aback. “Is she in there?”

“Beth is looking for her,” Rhodes gasps, an arm wrapped around her stomach. 

“You dragged Beth Satterfield into this?” Alison says.

“We didn’t drag anyone,” Bristow says, defiantly. “Emma’s sister is a freshman. Emma saw a message on her phone from this creep who’s been coming on to her, making plans to meet up here, and she lost it. She took off to try and find them. To break it up.”

“And where exactly did underage drinking figure into this plan?”

“It didn’t,” Bristow insists. “She ordered a Sprite. Somebody must have slipped something into her drink.”

Alison exchanges a sharp look with Paige. “Is this true?” she asks Rhodes, who’s still ashen faced and sweating. 

“I swear,” she says, holding up a hand weakly. 

Emily moves toward them. She’s spent the last ten minutes standing by her car, talking in a low voice on her cell. Paige has no idea what she’s up to, but she’s grateful that Emily was in the hotel bar when she saw Bristow hopping off the fire escape and hailing a cab here. 

“It’s true,” she confirms. “I heard her order it while she was showing the bartender the picture on her phone.”

“You just happen to have a picture of April Gauthier on your phone?” Paige asks, still suspicious. 

“No, him,” Rhodes mutters, handing Bristow her phone to show Paige as she bends over the trash can again.

Bristow pulls up the picture, from the Rosewood Athletics Department facebook page.

Paige knows before it’s even done loading.

Coach Mitchell.

He’s the creep.

\-----------------------------

Alison swings into immediate action. 

“You,” she orders Bristow. “Text Beth and Emma to meet you out here. Now.”

She turns to Paige. “She needs to go to the hospital. We don’t know what was in that drink, but she’s obviously having a bad reaction to it.”

Paige nods, hoping against hope the story won’t dry up all of the top level interest in Rhodes. 

“Take her to Mercy,” Emily suggests. “It’s five minutes away. I called ahead. They’re expecting you.”

Paige barely registers her words, but she starts pulling up the directions on her phone.

“Stay here with her,” Alison orders Emily, pointing at Bristow. “Give me five minutes.” She helps Paige load Rhodes into the car. “Go,” she says, kissing Paige quickly on the cheek. “I’ll take care of this and get everyone back to the hotel.”

“If he’s -”

“I’ll take care of it. Trust me.”

Paige heads for the hospital. If Alison can’t handle it, no one can.

\----------------------

She pulls up to the doors of the ER and is immediately met by a no nonsense doctor in a white coat. 

“Female, sixteen, severe food poisoning,” Mona Vanderwaal declares, winking subtly at Paige. “Start an IV and prepare to pump.”

\----------------------

It’s almost 4AM when they get back to the Courtyard. 

Paige deposits Rhodes back in her room, where the others are obviously pretending to be asleep, as evidenced by the burst of whispers as soon as she closes the door. 

“She got them _arrested_ ” she hears Satterfield announce, as she drags herself back to her room.

Alison is waiting up, too. 

“You got them arrested?” Paige asks, smiling in spite of her exhaustion. 

“Tanner has a friend on the force down here. We caught the bartender with a whole array of pharmaceuticals in his pockets. He started talking before they even got him into the squad car. The whole club is a haven for predators. The bouncers let a lot of underage girls in, and a lot of older guys show up with money and charm to spare. They offer him big tips to slip a little something extra in the girls drinks.”

Paige shudders. “That’s disgusting.”

“It is. But tonight should be a good start to shutting the whole place down. It should be enough to lose their liquor license.”

“Did they find Mitchell?”

“They did. Emma and Beth got April away from him, but he found another girl quickly enough. Too bad he wasn’t quite that fast zipping himself up. Everyone favorite family man is spending the night behind bars on an indecent exposure charge.”

“Where’s April now?”

“She’s shaken up. I booked her a room and sent Kendall in to keep an eye on her.” 

“Do you think Hackett is going to sweep this under the rug?”

“Not a chance,” Alison says. She smiles as she motions Paige to join her under the covers. 

“Beth got him on video.”

\----------------------------

It’s a major scandal, even by Rosewood standards. Thirteen girls, including the entire JV cheerleading squad, come forward about inappropriate behavior on the part of Coach Mitchell.

Coach Wilson calls the accusations a witch hunt.

The school board fires them both. Plus three other men in the department who knew what was happening, but took no action to stop it.

Aria Montgomery writes an essay for The New Yorker titled, “It Happened to Me: Being a Teenage Girl in Rosewood” that spells out the details of her affair with Ezra Fitz. It ends with a rhetorical question that echoes in the ears of every resident of Rosewood. “What would my life have looked like, what would your daughters lives look like now, if a single man had ever been held accountable?”

It’s the post #MeToo world. Students and former students come out of the woodwork to tell their stories of being propositioned by Rosewood teachers, doctors, professors, coffee shop owners, church officials, and cops.

Dateline does a special episode on Rosewood: Predators and Enablers.

Hackett gets the boot. The principal is pushed into early retirement. 

The Mayor is forced to resign.

Pam and Barry come over for Sunday dinner, to celebrate his new appointment as Chief of Police.

“By the time this is over, the whole town is gonna be different,” he says.

“Good,” Alison replies, raising her glass in a toast. “It’s about time.”

“To the future,” Paige agrees, clinking their glasses together.

\----------------

The next few months are a blur of motion.

Grace breaks into an impromptu pop and lock during her first ballet recital.

The school announces that Dr. Sullivan will be stepping in as the new principal.

Every morning, she wakes up next to Alison.

They go away for a long weekend in the Poconos to celebrate Ali’s promotion to replace Hackett.

Sunday dinners become a night for extended family. Paige’s parents bring a bottle of wine. Riley shows up with her new boyfriend. Emily stays to help with the dishes.

“You two are good together,” she says one night, as she’s putting her jacket on to leave. “It’s good. Ali deserves to be happy, after everything. You both do.”

Paige looks at Emily closely. She seems steadier these days, less like she’s always on the verge of bolting to whatever comes next. 

“Thanks,” Paige says. “For what it’s worth, you deserve to be happy, too.” 

Every morning, she packs Grace’s lunch. She likes grape jelly with peanut butter, but prefers carrot sticks over grapes as her fruit. 

Pregnancy turns Melissa into a kinder, gentler version of herself. She doesn’t even seem annoyed when Charlotte flashes their ultrasound to anyone and everyone at the drop of a hat. 

Hanna taps Alison to be one of her bridesmaids. Mona is the Maid of Honor, and she’s been terrorizing Toby about his lower key approach to being the Best Man. Caleb asks Paige to be one of his attendants. “Since you’re part of the family now.”

Every night, one of them reads Grace a bedtime story and the other tucks her in. Sometimes they read the story together, doing different voices for the characters. Sometimes Grace sounds out the words herself, tracing her finger carefully under the letters on the page.

The Genderqueer Shakespeare is a huge hit. The kids present Ali and Ella with a dozen roses during the final curtain call. Paige and Aria lead the standing ovation.

Rhodes declares for UCLA. They offer Kendall a job. She jumps at the chance.

Paige is tapped to be the new Athletic Director, to remake the department sans predatory men.

She hires Emily to be the new swimming coach.

Spencer quits the DNC and takes a job as the Rosewood City Manager. For her first community building event, she designs the most elaborate easter egg hunt the town has ever seen. 

Every night, Alison falls asleep beside her.

They start idly looking at real estate listings together. Talking about open concept sight lines, what Alison’s dream kitchen would look like. Then it turns into what kind of tub they might want in their master bath and whether they’d prefer a back deck or a sun porch. Alison shrugs. “Either way. As long as we get to raise our family in a house where no one has ever been buried in the backyard.”

_Our family._

Between their new jobs and the continuing fall out from the scandal, it feels as if events are moving faster and faster. Through it all, their relationship grows, almost as if their partnership is a permanent trust fall. One where Paige knows she’ll be caught every time.

She starts looking at rings. 

\-------------------------------

The Prom theme this year is Enchantment Under the Sea. The school has had a moratorium on masquerades since 2012, but it’s still shaping up to be an extravagant Rosewood party. 

Alison comes down the stairs wearing a floaty blue off the shoulder gown and a three strand pearl choker around her neck.Her hair is swept up into an elegant chignon. 

She flushes with happiness when she sees the look on Paige’s face, hears her stammering out a sheepish, “You look…..wow.”

“You look pretty wow yourself,” Alison replies, tweaking Paige’s blue bowtie before grasping the lapels of her white suit to pull her in for a kiss. A kiss which turns into a series of kisses and Paige’s hands roaming over the bare skin of Alison’s back, which turns into Alison fumbling with the buttons of Paige’s dress shirt and letting out a breathy moan as Paige presses her against the living room wall.

Ali’s hair is on the verge of coming undone when they’re interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Hold that thought,” Alison says, running a finger down the front of Paige’s vest as she goes to answer it.

To her surprise, it’s the Radley chauffeur, knocking to let them know the limo is ready whenever they are. Ashley Marin has it reserved for them all night. 

Spencer and Aria are lurking on the porch behind him, Aria holding a camera that’s almost as big as she is in the hopes of getting them to pose for pictures.

“We’re chaperones,” Alison chides them. “There’s no need for all this.”

“Sure,” Spencer says, with a smirk. “Because you just hate being the center of attention.”

Alison gives her a look, but she can’t hold it for long. Especially once she’s busy posing for a few shots in front of the car, with Paige’s arms around her waist.

She slips the driver a fifty as they climb in. “Get us there in thirty minutes.”

The school is maybe five minutes away.

“I want to take the scenic route,” Alison shrugs, as she puts the partition up.

Then she moves to straddle Paige’s hips.

“Liar,” Paige gasps, her lips against Alison’s neck.

\------------------------------

Paige gets out of the limo first, smoothing her clothes back into place as discreetly as possible. 

Entering the dance with Alison on her arm, Paige feels almost euphoric. The school cafeteria has been completely transformed. Enormous tanks full of tropical fish have been rented, along with watery turquoise lighting fixtures and an abundance of topiaries shaped like algae and kelp. The Prom Committee has built a replica of a sunken pirate ship. The windows are covered with silver and aqua shimmering curtains. The seats around the dancefloor are shaped like shells, and the floor is covered with sparkly glitter that’s probably supposed to look like sand.

Chaperone duty is serious business. Someone has to guard the punch bowl from Trip Kahn and his flasks (they confiscate three before asking him to leave). Someone has to patrol the hidden treasure labyrinth. They bust a soccer player taking creepshots. (Paige confiscates his cell phone. Alison suspends him on the spot.) Alison comforts a junior whose date ghosts on her after the first hour. Paige investigates a strange noise coming from an unlocked classroom and finds the Prom Queen making out with the captain of the girl’s basketball team. She brings them back to the cafeteria just as Alison returns from comforting a junior whose date ghosted on her when she turned down his advances.

“I’m ready for a break,” Alison declares.

“Me, too,” Paige agrees. “Can I have this dance?”

They sway back and forth on the edge of the dancefloor. 

“I never got to do this in high school,” Alison muses.

“Slow dance with a girl?”

“Slow dance with a girl. Go to a dance without getting almost murdered.”

“Times have changed.”

“In ways I never would have expected.”

And maybe it’s the elaborate decorations or the feel of Alison resting her head on Paige’s shoulder, but the night seems to buzz with magical energy.

The feeling lasts, even after the dance ends and the regular lights flip on. It’s late, and the school is mostly dark as they make a final sweep of the building before locking up.

“Did you hear something?” Alison asks, suddenly.

“No,” Paige frowns, listening.

“I think it came from over there,” Alison insists, leading them around a corner to the entrance to the pool.

Paige sighs and takes Alison’s hand. “Don’t worry, it’s probably some kids who wanted to finish the night skinny dipping.”

She unlocks the door and scans the area for mischievous students, but there’s no one there.

Then she sees the pool itself, which is filled with hundreds of roses. A floating floral arrangement, spelling out a message.

MARRY ME

Alison is already down on one knee, pulling a ring from a hidden pocket of her dress. 

Paige kneels next to her and pulls a ring out of the inside breast pocket of her suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting for an update to this story, your interest and encouragement have kept me coming back to these final chapters even as more and more time dragged on. There's one more short chapter left, and I'm hoping to have it up in the next couple of days._
> 
>  
> 
> If you're interested in what other Liar-related things I've been up to, you can listen to Everybody A, Everybody Gay. It's a podcast that explores the queer side of PLL. Which, as you can imagine, lco123 and I have a lot to say about! 
> 
>  
> 
> Listen here if you like!


	12. Ever Just as Sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you to everyone who has cared about this story enough to want to see how it ends._

*********FIVE YEARS LATER**********

 

The heart is a muscle. It strengthens and expands over time. 

Paige squeezes Alison’s hand as they watch their daughters ride the carousel at Franklin Square. They’ve been married five years now and in the midst of the everyday drama, there are still moments like this that fill her with awe and gratitude for how miraculous it all seems.

Lila is celebrating her fourth birthday by wearing a yellow sundress and riding an eagle. Her hair is streaming behind her as she pretends to chase Grace’s zebra. Hanna’s daughter Reggie is also in the chase, shrieking with excitement on her dragon. They’re both wearing matching friendship bracelets Grace made for them.

“We’re taking her to pick out a kitten later,” Hanna confides. Reggie is exactly two days older than Lila. It sometimes seems like they were born to be best friends. And being pregnant at the same time as Hanna meant that Paige herself gained a close friend and a lot of high fashion maternity wear. 

“She’s getting a kitten and cupcakes? Best birthday ever,” Alison smiles. 

Aria watches the kids as the merry-go-round spins. She’s in town to shoot some photos of Charlotte and Melissa’s new house for Architectural Digest. Once Alison was out of the DiLaurentis house, they bought the Hastings house from Veronica and tore everything down to build their dream house on the combined lot. Their dream happens to be a replica of a French castle, with a moat which they determinedly refer to as a water feature.

“I need to up my heel game,” Aria announces. “Grace is nine years old and she’s almost as tall as I am.”

“To be fair, there are mushrooms almost as tall as you,” Spencer points out. 

Paige grins. “Take it up with Emily. Grace inherited her freakishly long legs.”

“Hey,” Spencer interjects. “I’m partial to those legs.” She takes a sip of her coffee, as her engagement ring glints in the late afternoon sun. She and Emily are planning on a fall wedding.

“You’ll thank me when she starts beating you in the 100 Free,” Emily shrugs. 

Both the girls are enthusiastic swimmers, which probably isn’t so much nature or nurture as it is being personal friends of Rosewood’s first ever Olympic medalists. Bristow and Rhodes always stop by whenever they’re in town, always a little embarrassed but mostly delighted to sign posters and give Grace and Lila whatever pint sized Olympic swag they’ve collected.

“Have you told them the big news yet?” Hanna asks. “If I have to keep it a secret much longer, my brain is gonna burst.”

“We’ll do it this weekend,” Alison nods, cradling her stomach. “Riley’s coming home for a few days.” She’s in her second year of law school at UPenn, thanks to a generous scholarship from the Carisimi Foundation. “Then we’ll have Nick and Debra over for dinner. They’ll be over the moon about being grandparents again.”

“You know my mom considers them all her grandkids,” Emily points out.

“Mine, too.” Hanna agrees.

“Same,” Aria nods. 

“I think my mom considers the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to be her grandchild,” Spencer laughs. Veronica is in the middle of her first term as governor, with approval ratings through the roof and increasing national buzz. “Have you decided on a name yet?”

“We’re going to let the girls help brainstorm,” Paige replies.

“So we might need a tiebreaker vote if they both go for Beyonce,” Alison adds, kissing Paige lightly on the cheek.

“You two,” Aria says, sounding a little amused. “I swear, you’re the last people I ever would have expected to get together. And also the most disgustingly happy couple I know.”

Paige wraps an arm around her wife’s waist as the kids hop off the carousel and start running towards them full tilt. 

“What can I say?” Alison says. “We love each other like crazy. That's the truth.”


End file.
